December
by LemonMeringueTart
Summary: Jane discovers Maura in an unusual situation, forcing them to examine their relationship. This is basically an excuse to write some good old-fashioned PWP. Nominated for BEST NC-17 - 2015 RIZZLES FAN AWARDS!
1. Chapter 1

This is a Rizzles story, and it doesn't fit anywhere specifically into the R &amp; I television realm that we know and love (sometimes). I prefer to pretty much ignore the characters of Casey, Jack, etc. because they are boys and boys are boring (sorry, but that's the truth!)

This story doesn't have anything to do with anything else that I have written, so it's completely stand-alone from my other fics.

Feedback / Reviews / Messages make me write faster. I'm just kidding. Not really. Am I? Whatever.

Merry Christmas.

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_Her hands; it always came back to her hands. Long and strong; feminine and masculine, her hands express both the deftness required to play a classical piano piece as well as draw a semi-automatic weapon, click off the safety, and acquire a kill shot on a target 25-feet away in little more than a nanosecond. _

_In all truthfulness, it takes her approximately one billion nanoseconds to draw her weapon, depending on what blazer she's wearing. _

I resist the urge to roll my eyes at myself, knowing that is what Jane would do if she knew what I was thinking about. Shaking my head slightly, I roll over and sigh into the quiet darkness of my room.

"I should be thinking about Jack," I tell myself soberly. After years of dating, I've finally found a man who celebrates my quirks, doesn't mind my unusual job, and most importantly; isn't a sociopath. I try to force myself into thinking about him instead, but my mind quickly wanders onto a more interesting subject.

_She frequently finds something to fidget with; sometimes it's the label on her bottle of beer, a pen, or even the edge of her cuff. Her fingers twitch when they are unoccupied and I've seen her reach out for a paperclip or scrap piece of paper just to have something within her grasp. I often find myself mesmerized by the gentle and repetitive motion of her unconscious movements – is she even aware of what she's doing? _

_Do her hands grope as eagerly at the flesh of her lovers? Are her movements frantic or more controlled? _

I shift uncomfortably at the thought of Jane sharing her bed with anyone. Sighing again, I make yet another attempt to relax and fall back asleep.

I really haven't been sleeping well. Chalk it up to a newly-acquired habit of having an extra glass of wine before bed, or the atrocious lack of healthy leafy greens in my diet lately due to all of the holiday goodies available at the precint; regardless, a good night's sleep has eluded me for the past few nights. I am fairly certain that the cause of the issue is Jane, yet I still want to stubbornly cling to the notion it could be something environmental. What's unusual is that I'm falling asleep relatively easy; after my usual meditation session, that is. However, around the same time each morning I am being interrupted from my most crucial stage of sleep, N3. After only a few days of sleep deprivation I am already showing clinical signs such as moodiness, a decrease in energy, and frequent headaches.

Closing my eyes, I arrange the soft bedclothes to form a cocoon around my shoulders. I purposely slow and steady my breathing and concentrate on relaxing my muscles; starting with my clenched jaw. As I sink further into the mattress, my mind wanders once again, always to the same subject.

_Her hair is such an enigma. I am certain she doesn't color it, yet sometimes it appears as black as a raven's wing at midnight and other times the color of finely burnished mahogany from the most environmentally-friendly sustainable forest. When she leaves it down, the tangled curls are a true testament to her personality – utterly mussed and disoriented on the surface, yet in perfect order. Once pulled back, her angular face is the star and no one can question that she is a force to be reckoned with. _

_I love the grimace she makes when she rips the rubber band out of her hair; the slight head shake she does to release the curls back into freedom, and the little half frown she makes as she pulls any loose hair out of the now-empty rubber band. She used to insist on wearing the band around her wrist until I told her about the hidden dangers of circulation loss. Now she keeps it stowed in her back pocket, a much more appropriate place. How quickly she hooks one long digit into her pocket, retrieves the band, and effortlessly contains all of the curls using her extremely dexterous fingers. _

I find myself watching her make daily motions such as this with my mouth slightly open; my eyes half lidded. My breathing hitches each time she quirks an eyebrow in my direction. What must she think? Does she have any idea what her hands do to me? How every gesture she makes leaves the inside of my thighs quivering? Whenever I mention Jack, she wrinkles her nose in displeasure. What would she think if she knew I had to imagine it was her I was with instead of him, pretending it was her who was spreading my legs open roughly? Wishing it was her elegant hands palming my breasts instead of his coarse ones?

My eyes snap open and I worry at the side of my cheek with my canines. I have to stop thinking about her hands. Perhaps I have hand partialism? I've never had a hand fetish before, but there is something about Jane's that are my very undoing.

I can't resist any longer. I have to have her, even if it's in the only way possible. Reaching for my phone, my heart lurches at the thought of hearing her voice. My hand trembles as I tap at her name on my phone and then place it to my ear. She'll answer; she always does. It barely rings before I'm rewarded with her voice.

"Maur," her low timbre sends a tremor down my back. "Whassa matter?"

"I can't sleep," I answer honestly. It shouldn't be a surprise; I've called her like this every night this week. She sighs gently; the soft exhale of her breath makes my throat suddenly go dry. What it must feel like to have her hot breath on my neck as she works her long fingers inside of me.

"Oh God," I bite back a sob as the visual will not leave my mind.

"God is sleeping. Just Jane," she mutters and yawns softly. From the groan that follows, I know she is stretching. We went for a jog after work and then grabbed a quick bite for dinner. She looked exhausted when we parted; she said she was going to go to my guest house to visit Angela quickly and then head home to bed. Once home she probably opened a beer, drank half of it while in the shower, and threw on the first pair of clean boxers and white t-shirt she could find. She probably dozed off on the couch; beer never finished, and only a short time ago woke and groggily made her way into the bedroom. Right now, if I was kissing her, she would taste like Spring Rolls and Sam Adams; her hair still damp from the shower.

Would she like it if I ran my tongue down her elegant neck? Is she as dramatic in the bedroom as she is in her daily life; flailing hands and exasperated sighs? Or does she possess the cool, calm, and deadly serious persona she takes on when standing down against a suspect? My entire body shudders as I picture her eyes fixated; hard and dilated on her prey as her intelligent mind figures out the best way to get what she wants and the quickest way to do so.

I have never needed anyone like I have needed her right now. My hand drifts down to the apex of my thighs, past the part in the soft silk of my dressing gown, to tease my naked skin underneath.

"Maur?"

My eyes snap open and my hand freezes just before I touch myself where I am aching for her to be touching me so desperately. I clench my thighs together in agony.

"I'm here, Jane."

"Do you want me to come over?"

She's asked the same thing during each midnight phone call and I've always declined.

_No. I can't possibly be held accountable for my actions if I see you right now. _

_No. If you come over, there is an extremely good chance I will throw myself at you and make a complete fool of myself. _

_No. If you come over, I will answer the door in nothing more than my sheer dressing gown and beg for you to put your mouth on me. _

_No. If you come over, I will have brought myself to the brink of orgasm and it will only take one glance from your brilliant eyes to push me over the edge. _

_No. If you come over, I will push my obnoxiously large strap-on into your hands and get on all fours in front of you before you even have time to take your shoes off. _

My voice betrays me. "Yes, Jane. If you wouldn't mind, I think having you here would be good for me."

I hear her nod her head as if she were in agreement. "No problem. Be there in a minute."

As she ends the call, I groan into the darkness at my own stupidity. She will drive fast and there will be little traffic. My pounding heart beats faster with the anticipation of seeing her again so soon. Right now she's rubbing her eyes with the backs of her palms, her long lanky form rising from her bed and shuffling into the bathroom. She will wince at the brightness of the vanity light and hiss in displeasure as she splashes water on her face in the attempt to wake herself up quicker.

The very thought of her, even in such a rudimentary setting, sets my core aflame. Desperate for some release, my fingers work their way through my drenched center and I allow the low and ragged moan to echo off the otherwise quiet walls of my bedroom. Would she leave her pajamas on and just throw a pair of Boston PD sweatpants over her boxers? A faded and worn hoodie hastily pulled over her thin t-shirt? As she approached her front door, I can picture her sliding her bare feet into the first pair of shoes she shuffled into; sighing dramatically at the thought of going out in the cold. Still, she would, her muscles contracting and her nipples formed into twin, tight peaks once the frigid wind made its way through her cheap cotton clothes. Does she know how incredibly desirable I find her to be in her 'scuzzy' clothes, as she likes to call them?

Once here, she would lay sprawled against the plush cushions of my couch; one hand in the waistband of her sweatpants and the other flopped over her forehead. Her long and lanky form would take up the entire length of the sofa. She would look so supine; so comfortable, and irresistible. I craved her like no other.

Comfortable Jane equals confident Jane. And confident Jane is oh, so fucking sexy. Dozens of images of confident Jane surge through my head; each bringing another rush of wetness as I can't help but flick my fingers over my clit mercilessly. I imagine Jane finding me like this; on the edge of orgasm. Would she push my hand away and bury hers inside me instead? I moan; long and low and ragged and push a finger inside of myself, my walls clenching. It would feel so much better if it were Jane's fingers; a good inch longer than my own and twice as resilient. Her weight would anchor me to the mattress as the curtain of her curls tickled my face and shoulders. She would whisper lovely things, nasty things, sweet things, and disgustingly filthy things into my ear as she fucked me slowly and deliberately; words that would make me flush. I imagine telling me things that I would soon beg for her to do, as she moved me into positions that I had only imagined to be possible, telling me how much she loved me.

Thinking of her declaration of love causes my orgasm to arrive with a shuddering surprise of emotion. So caught up in my imagination, I am unable to resist crying out her name loudly and repeatedly until I've finished. My voice hoarse, I whisper her name raggedly one last time as tears well in my eyes; imagining just how unrealistic my fantasy really is.

I'm so angry at myself for allowing my imagination and emotions to take control. Sitting upright, I wipe my hand off on the bedclothes and slide my dressing gown off as I get up and turn on the light. She will be here soon, and I need to get dressed in something more appropriate; not to mention needing a few minutes to compose myself.

I let out a small gasp as my vision adjusts to the light. My eyes widen in surprise as I see her standing in my doorway, now clearly lit by my bedside lamp.

"How did you," my voice falters. How long has she been standing here?

"I, uh, I was at Ma's still," her voice is low, even for her. Her eyes dart back and forth from my naked form to the floor in front of me. "I must've fallen asleep on the couch. I woke up when you called with a blanket over me. That's why I said I'd only be a minute."

I can tell she's unsettled; and rightly so. It's not like her to offer a lengthy explanation for anything, and her downtrodden expression and uncomfortable posture is something I've never seen from her.

"I thought it was merely a figure of speech," I respond, uncertain of what she saw and how to proceed. She was still in her workout clothes, the tight pants leaving nothing to the imagination and her sweatshirt skewed. Her hair had obviously started out as pulled back into her trademark ponytail, but most of the curls had attempted an escape. Her running shoes were shoved on, left untied.

"Um, I'll let you get dressed," her face manages to appear both ghastly white and flushed red with embarrassment.

Before I can say another word, she is gone.

Standing frozen next to my bed, I have no idea what to do. She clearly knew what I was doing, and it is highly unlikely she avoided hearing her name called out. I close my eyes in despair, knowing I have quite possibly ruined the only friendship I have ever had.

Moments pass, maybe even minutes. My normally active mind is a nearly-empty void, the shocked expression on Jane's face and her downturned eyes as she moved away replaying over and over through my head like a scene from a terrible movie. I have never felt more powerless or vulnerable; literally and figuratively stripped naked in front of the person who means more to me than anyone else ever has or ever will. I would never claim to have the powers of psychic premonition (not that I would ever admit such a thing to exist), but I am assured that Jane is 'the one'. It's just never been the right time to tell her. Truthfully, I've declined to mention my feelings to her in fear our friendship would suffer. I don't know what I would do without her in my life. My eyes well with tears; fat blobs of prolactin, adrenocorticotropic, and leucine encephalin begin rolling down my cheeks. I close my eyes and put my hands over my face; before I was old enough to understand basic physics, I believed this position made me invisible. I would give anything to believe in invisibility again.

I furrow my brow as I hear the floor creak. Jane's scent; an intoxicating mix of spiced vanilla and stale coffee infiltrates my senses as if she's standing directly in front of me. I'm almost afraid to open my eyes in case I am wrong.

Then I feel a touch; tentative at first as it barely graces my hip and fidgets upward to my waist before trailing away. Her hand; I would recognize her touch anywhere. I hear a sigh; or was it a bitten back moan? I feel gentle pressure on both of my wrists; and when I fail to uncover my face, the pressure is more demanding and my hands are forced to my sides, encircled firmly in Jane's grasp.

My eyes snap open to meet the gentle chocolate depths of Jane's. They glitter like the finest cut gemstone, heavy and laden with emotion. She glances down guiltily at my trapped hands and releases them quickly, a faint blush coloring her neck. Jane reaches a tentative hand toward my face and her touch is so soft; almost awed, that it's almost imperceptible.

"Hi." It's a stupid thing to say, foolish even, but it is the only sentence I am able to muster at the moment.

She smiles; that sly half-smile usually reserved for only me. Combined with a gentle downward jut of her chin and bashful eyes, she is completely alluring. My breath hitches in my throat as I notice that her eyes have traveled downward to fixate on my breasts. The tip of a fleeting tongue appears as she licks her lips. Her chest is flushed and her breathing erratic. Her eyes meet mine briefly again and I notice her pupils are dilated, before they return to stare at my exposed body.

Clear physiological signs of arousal.

Before I can process what any of this means, I feel her lips on mine. What begins as a timid, almost chaste, kiss quickly turns into one that leaves my legs quivering as she becomes more bold. Her hands spread as wide as possible at the palm to cover the majority of my naked skin; roam over my back before quickly moving to the front to tease the undersides of my breasts shyly.

My fingers deftly move between the layers of her clothes, desperate to feel the taught and toned skin of her abdomen and I can't help the moan that escapes once I am rewarded with her muscled flesh.

She jumps back away from me as I trace her musculature; a nervous smile on her face as she self-consciously runs her hands through her mussed curls in a thinly-veiled attempt to return them to her ponytail. My fingers twitch; already missing the feel of her skin. My body deflates as I assume her movement away from me is a rejection.

"Jane," my voice is dry; hoarse. "I know we need to talk. I'm so sorry, I should have told you sooner; should have been honest with you, I should have…"

She interrupts me with a sharp shake of her head. "Why haven't I ever told you how incredibly beautiful you are?" Her voice is hushed, reverent. A tone I've only heard from her before when she's spoken about happy childhood memories or the Red Sox winning something important.

I shrug silently, lifting one shoulder. Our eyes meet and I gasp at the intensity I see in her dark depths. As I reach for her, she shakes her head again, more of her wild hair escaping from the thin band.

"I want this Maur, more than you'll ever know," her voice is haggard, hungry. "I just need some time." She takes another step back from me and my shoulders sag. My eyes refuse to leave hers and I try to implore her with all that I am feeling. My words are failing me, and for the first time in my life I feel as if I open my mouth to speak I will begin to cry.

"Okay," I tell her in a soft voice as I nod in agreement.

We stand there, staring at each other. I'm completely fascinated at the range of emotions flickering over her face; regret, disbelief, adoration, nervousness, a slight flash of anger even. Yet in the end, the only expression left is of pure unadulterated desire. I know her so well, I know that most of the others were reserved for her, but the desire is solely for me and me alone.

"Fuck it," she mutters and crashes against me in a crushing kiss before I can begin to lecture her on her language. Her hands, those glorious hands that I have been fantasizing about for what seems like forever, boldly claim my entire body. Her kiss consumes me and I claw at her back; wanting to feel her skin against mine. Pushing my hands under her clothes I am once again rewarded with her muscled flesh and I smile against her mouth.

"I need more of you," I tell her and she nips at my bottom lip before her tongue meets mine again. Without preamble she enters me with two long digits, her prominent knuckles scraping my rigid walls as she slowly moves in and out. Unintelligible sounds leave my mouth as I gasp and throw my head back and I'm vaguely aware of her hot and wet mouth moving down to do purely obscene things to one nipple as her free hand works the other.

Somehow we move together back toward my bed and I am rewarded with the welcome weight of her, just as I've imagined. I bite back a smile as she carefully tucks herself around me as to not hurt me. Satisfied that I'm comfortable, she starts her ministrations again as her mouth finds mine once more.

She is an amazing kisser; both gentle and aggressive. I can't help but pull her closer as my hands entwine around her mussed curls.

Her pace is languid and deliberate as she fucks me, using her strength to push one of my thighs further apart so she can reach inside deeper. I groan and shriek as she rubs inside me where no one else has ever been able to reach and she lets out an evil sounding chuckle. She continues her slow pace until my toes curl and I feel as if I don't come soon I will die from the intoxicating pleasure.

"Jane," I claw and nip at her as I shamelessly grind myself down further onto her hand. "You feel amazing, please don't stop,"

"Nuh huh" she says, a mouthful of my nipple. She releases it with an audible 'pop'. "Never going to stop, Maur. This is heaven." She gives me an-almost feral grin before taking my nipple in her mouth once more; biting down just enough to send a sliver of pain up my back.

In engulfs me with a passion I never knew I had. "Jane, please. Harder."

"Don't want to hurt you," she murmurs around my voluptuous breast.

"You won't. Jane, I won't break. Please."

Perhaps it's the desperation in my voice that finally allows her to let loose, or it's the sensation of having a completely open and dripping wet woman at her mercy, just begging to be fucked. Regardless, she begins to piston her hand in and out of me, somehow managing to hit that unreachable spot inside of me on the upstroke and my clit on the down stroke, perfectly, every time. She growls as she feels me come undone underneath her and clamps down on my nipple, holding it roughly in her teeth as she flicks the tip with her tongue.

It's all too much and not enough and as I scream and moan and pull her hair, she somehow does everything even harder.

I have felt pleasure from my own hands as well as others; men and women alike. However, nothing could have ever prepared me for the feeling of being completely consumed and loved by Jane. The reality of her makes all of my fantasy scenes seem generic and idiotic now that she is everywhere; on top of me, around me, and so deep inside me I can't even remember what it was like to be without her. Before I know it my orgasm arrives and it is so strong that my entire body shakes and convulses and yet she still doesn't stop fucking me as she urges me on to an even greater high. Once I become limp and boneless, she uses her superior strength to flip me over and smoothly reenter me from behind, going in even deeper than before. She savagely bites my back and shoulders as she coaxes me into yet another orgasm; pushing and prodding and pulling at me until I collapse onto the mattress a sobbing and shuddering mess, screaming her name like I have never screamed before.

It is only then that she is soft; engulfing me with her long form, peppering kisses to my damp skin and whispering unintelligible words. The ringing in my ears prevents me from hearing all that she's saying, and when I order her to remember everything in order to repeat it back to me once I'm able to listen, she chuckles. She presses her still-clothed body against mine until I stop trembling, her hands caressing every part of my body. Fiddling with my hair, tracing the curve of my waist to hip, tickling the back of my thighs, and returning back to my hair before repeating the pattern again; her hands are relentless. Just as I imagined they would be.

Once I'm completely relaxed, she gently encourages me to turn over in order to place an indolent kiss to my mouth. I return the kiss freely; enjoying the gentle and leisurely pace she's offering now.

"Sooooooooo," she drawls softly once she breaks the kiss, "um, that was fun." Playfully waggling her eyebrows at me, I can't help but giggle.

"Fun? That's the best you can come up with? I could think of several more suitable words to describe what just happened if you hadn't given me several amazing orgasms." I smile to let her know that I am only teasing.

"Three," She responds smugly, "I'm pretty sure it was three orgasms."

"I'm very sure it was," I agree as I tuck my head into her well-defined shoulder and allow my own hands to wander. "Jane, I know there's a lot to talk about but all I can focus on at the moment is getting you out of these clothes."

She smiles and I feel my heart lurch; overwhelmed at the emotion I'm feeling. We continue to grin at each other for several seconds until hers slowly fades. I look at her quizzically, my hands stalled.

"Jack?" Her face is pained; concerned.

"He has been very kind and sweet to me, and I do care for him." Her face falls and I hurry my next sentence. "Jane, he's been a distraction; something to keep me preoccupied while I gathered the courage to tell you how I really felt." I place my hand over her heart. "There's never been anyone like you for me. You must know that."

The relief on her face is evident and she gives me an easy grin. When her eyes flash, I know I'm in for some much-deserved teasing. "I, uh, think you made that pretty clear tonight when I walked in on you screaming my name." She puts the back of her hand to her forehead, fluttering her eyes dramatically as she continues, "Oh Jane, Jaaaaannnneeeeeeeeeee, Jaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

I laugh with her, content in the security of her embrace and the realization that nothing has to be different between us. As her ever-fidgeting hands somehow find the way back to my breasts to tease once-again erect nipples, my eyes flash with rekindled desire. Well, one thing will be very different for us. Growling, I push myself on top of her prone form, taking in the delicious sight of her lying languid beneath me. She quirks one eyebrow at me; and the simplicity of the gesture sets me aflame.

"It's time to hear what it sounds like when you scream my name."


	2. Chapter 2

I hadn't intended this story to be anything other but a smutty one shot, but I'm happy with the feedback I've received so I decided to write the first chapter from Jane's perspective. Would any of you be interested if I decided to continue this fic? Let me know your thoughts.

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I traced my middle finger over the delicate filigree of the blanket repeatedly, following the same pattern each time. I count ten times, then twelve, and am halfway through thirteen before being interrupted by an unusually-gentle voice.

"What are you doing?"

I glance up at the hovering face of my mother; concern evident in her narrowed eyes.

I clench the blanket nervously before releasing it, smoothing out the heavy embroidery until it lies flat once again across my lap.

Sighing, I avert my eyes; annoyed.

"What's upsetting you?"

My jaw clenched, the image of Jack splayed comfortably against Maura's couch as I arrived unannounced for breakfast this morning torments me. Why did he have to be so perfect? Why did she always flutter her eyelashes at him whenever he said something charming? Frowning, I push the blanket away, the smell of Maura's perfume evident. Why did the blanket have to smell like her? The sweet and spicy scent is cloying, much like my thoughts of its owner.

"Jane, you can talk to me," my mother prods and I resist the urge to snap at her. I can practically hear Maura chastising me to 'be nice' and that she's 'just trying to help' and I scowl in response to her imaginary reprimand.

"Ma, it's nothing, but thanks for asking. I'm just tired."

Her face falls. Subdued, she sits down next to me and folds the blanket into a perfect square before returning it to its spot on the arm of the couch. Maura is rubbing off on her; hell, on all of us.

I watch as my mother turns her attention to the television, watching it lifelessly. My gaze travels from her furrowed forehead, down her strong nose, to her clamped jaw. Several minutes pass as I try to figure out how to apologize for my lousy attitude.

Feeling guilty, I ask, "Do you mind if I stay on the couch here tonight? I'm sorry for being an ass; I'm just feeling sorry for myself I guess."

Her face lights up and I know I've said the right thing. She nods excitedly, springing up from the couch.

I watch her happily puttering around, now ignoring the television playing the same old recycled Christmas programming in the background. Smiling as she puts a glass of water down on the side table, I'm touched she remembers how I always got up in the middle of the night for a drink as a little girl.

The tiny little lit tree on the small side table is a far cry from the stately pine my father had insisted on putting up in the living room every Christmas. I close my eyes, embarrassed at the tears that have started to form. Everything seemed so carefree then; the delicious smells coming from the kitchen intermingled with my father's strong cologne and the woodsy scent of the tree. We'd have Christmas carols on as we decorated, tinsel wars, and arguments over how to set up the Nativity Scene while annoyed muttered Italian curses from my father filtered toward our reddened ears as he tried to untangle the lights. Once we were finished, Ma would bring hot chocolate out from the kitchen for all of us before bed; two marshmallows in everyone's cup except for Tommy, who always asked for three. After being put to bed, sometimes I'd sneak down to the top of the stairs to watch my mother and father curled up on the couch together, murmuring words only they could hear. I'd watch the snow fall, listen to the carols, and revel in the simple beauty of the season. I'd feel loved, safe, and content.

Everything is so different now. Longing for a less confusing time, I angrily wipe my tears away with the back of my hand.

This year's tiny tree is overwhelmed with our childhood ornaments, made mostly of faded construction paper and missing cotton balls. Tommy's tiny handmade star, consisting of five glitter-covered Popsicle sticks tops the tree. Painstakingly mended each year by my mother, she refused to throw any of them away. I'm surprised at the sudden flare of fiery anger that tickles my stomach. Did my father even want any of our old memories? Is he even thinking of any of us this Christmas? Who overhears his cursing now as he puts up the lights? Does she know how he takes his hot chocolate? Or is he alone this year, like I would be if I were at home?

The thought of my empty apartment, free from any holiday cheer, dissipates my anger and returns me to a melancholy state. A part of me wants to stay here tonight, not just for my mother's sake but for my own. Perhaps the two of us can avoid our loneliness together. Besides, Jo's already settled; curled up in the small dog bed Maura keeps here for her. With my long hours at work lately, she's been spending almost all of her time here with my mother. She seems to prefer Maura's sprawling back yard for her doggie duties rather than the leashed walks I have to give her when we're at home; and who can blame her? Everything seems better here. And, if I stay here tonight I can see Maura before work tomorrow and maybe even convince her to go out with me for breakfast; just the two of us this time. She's always at her most radiant first thing in the morning when the infinite possibilities of the day still await; before the realization of our depressing jobs fully sinks in. Maybe she'll wear her hair pulled to the side so her long neck is exposed; the tantalizing soft skin that begs to be nuzzled.

The beaming smile my mother rewards me with as she hands me an extra pillow and blanket causes me to give her a slight grin in reflex as I gratefully am distracted from my thoughts about nuzzling Maura from going any further.

"I'm glad you're gonna stay, Janie," she says as she bustles into the kitchenette to open the small fridge. "In fact, let's have a celebratory drink."

"What are we celebrating?"

"The end of a really shitty year," she responds as she opens two bottles of beer. Returning to the couch, I quirk an eyebrow at her.

"I call it as I see it, daughter of mine. This year has been the pits. There's been too much sadness and loss, for all of us. It can only get better from here, and I just know this year is gonna be different."

I sip my beer quietly, nodding in agreement. "I hope you're right, Ma." My voice is low, even more than usual.

"I am," she tells me confidently before taking a generous sip of her drink. I bite back a bark of laughter as she grimaces from the taste. I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen her drink anything other than wine. Suddenly appreciative of her, I reach over and clench her hand tightly. She squeezes mine back and for a brief second I'm convinced that all is right with the world.

Reality quickly returns; images of Frost with his dazzling smile that I'll never see again leaving me with a painful hollowness in my heart.

We sit in silence together, each lost in our own thoughts. How much loss and longing should any of us have to suffer? Haven't we all paid our dues to death and destruction over the past year?

I could have had it all with Casey; a perfect husband and perfect child. Why did I push away from him so strongly? Why did I refuse to quit my job in order to protect my child? And Frost, why was he taken from us so suddenly? How is any of this fair?

"Hey," she releases my hand and pats my leg, "stop being so down in the dumps. We're celebrating, remember? Let's talk about what we're thankful for."

I roll my eyes as I sip my beer. "Really, Ma?"

Glaring at me, she nudges my leg again. "Yeah, really. I heard about it on Dr. Phil. He says that for every sixty seconds you spend unhappy, you lose a minute of happiness. You've been moping now for the entire time you've been here. That's been almost 45 minutes of happiness you've denied yourself!"

"Now you're taking life advice from Dr. Phil?"

"Well, I don't see you trying to figure out how to make yourself happy, do I? Jane, life is too short to be miserable all the time. Take it from me, I spent a long time trying to fix something that was broken beyond repair and I was too blind and too proud to admit it to myself. Don't make the same mistake I did." She takes a long and slow drink from the bottle, her expression unreadable.

I allow her words to sink in, absorbing them fully. Maybe I should have tried harder with Casey, swallowed my pride and left my job to be with him.

Shaking my head, I bite back a chuckle. It never would've worked, and I know it. Perhaps I could have had it all, relished in 'playing house' with him for a while, but in the long run I would have been miserable giving up my career.

"Ma, I don't know what you're getting at. I made the best decision for me regarding Casey. It was never going to work between us, I never would have been happy living the life he wanted me to live. Breaking it off with him was the right decision." My hands nervously fiddle with the label on my beer bottle as I continue, "But you're right about something else. I was too proud to admit that I wasn't able to do my job while pregnant. I'll live with the regret of my mistake every day for the rest of my life." As tears prickle my eyes again, I stare down at the liquid gently swishing around in the bottle; amazed at the way the amber color reminds me of the highlights in Maura's hair. "I really wanted the baby, Ma. I think I would've loved being a mother." The imaginary image of coming home to find Maura tucked in on the couch with the baby is a painful one that I've thought about one too many times.

She puts her arm around me, drawing me in close. "You both would have been amazing mothers. Maura was so excited to take the journey with you. She spent most of her evenings researching the safest cribs, highchairs, you name it."

The daydream returns, stronger this time. _I open the door, Jo's pattering little feet dancing all around as she greets me. A flash of dark blonde hair burns brightly in the dim lighting as Maura turns from her seat on the couch to smile at me before shushing the excited dog. I reach down to tangle my fingers in the terrier's perfectly groomed coat and grin as she flops over to show me her belly. Rubbing it, I'm overwhelmed by the peace and sanctity my home and those who inhabit it bring me. _

"_I just got her to sleep," Maura whispers as I creep over, shedding my jacket and shoes on the way. _

"_Hi," I whisper back as I lower myself to kiss her full mouth, my hand tangled in her flowing hair. She looks so small here; so comfortable stripped out of her fancy clothes. Dressed in a loose sweater and leggings, sans makeup, she looks younger and carefree. I regretfully release her mouth, pausing to place a kiss on the freckles that dance across her exposed shoulder. _

"_Hello yourself," she responds with a groan. She smells like peaches and cream; cinnamon and honey, baby powder and wine. She is perfect. _

_Speaking of perfection, I gently trace a finger down the face of our slumbering little girl. "Hey Angelina, how was your day? I have to tell you how jealous I am; I'd love to stay nestled against mommy's big boobies all day." I run my hands over the mentioned appendages, my fingers expertly tickling her nipples until they harden against my palms. _

"_Jane!" Maura laughs, her perfect white teeth exposed. _

"_Shh," I shush her as my heart races at the sound of her laughter. "You'll wake the baby." _

_She pulls me in for another kiss, this one deeper. She clutches to me as if I am her lifeline. "Let's put her to bed; I missed you today." _

Taking a gasp of much-needed oxygen, I return my thoughts to the present.

"Yeah, well she can go have her own baby now with Jack. I'm sure Mr. Perfect would love to knock her up," I mutter, the bitterly-spoken words escaping from my mouth before I have the chance to filter myself.

My mother's body grows stiff against mine. Slowly, she releases her hold on me, carefully sets her bottle down on the coffee table (on a coaster, of course), and turns to face me; her face stoic and unreadable.

Leaning back on the couch I square my shoulders and cross my arms, careful not to upset my beer. Preparing for a lecture of some sort, I quirk my eyebrow at my mother and wait for the yelling to start.

"Janie, I know you're hurting. We all are." Her voice is softer than I expected but I refuse to let my guard down. "I wish you could have seen how Maura reacted when you were in the hospital; how she reacted when we found out you lost the baby."

My brows furrow, remembering Maura by my bedside as I awoke, remembering asking her about Tasha, and asking her about the baby. I saw the pain in her eyes, clearly. Her hands were trembling. How could I have been so blind? So selfish? I've never even asked her how she was doing. I'm such an asshole.

"I think it's been easier for the two of you to walk a separate path side by side than a single path together," my mother continues, "but the two paths are now at an intersection. Which way do you want to go?"

"Wait, what?"

"You heard me, Janie." I meet my mother's gaze; her eyes fixed on mine, her expression resolute. "Think about it, would ya? You're a detective; it's your job to figure things like this out, not Maura's. That woman needs something printed up in three different peer-reviewed journals before she would even start to consider it a fact."

Seeing that I'm completely confused, my mother decides to make an exit. "Do some thinking and find some happiness. It's all within your grasp. You know, I've never seen you be afraid of going after something you wanted until now." Standing up, she leans down to kiss my forehead. "Get some rest."

I sigh at her retreating form. "Really? If this is how you get when you drink beer, please don't. And stop watching Dr. Phil."

She flutters a hand over her shoulder as she tidies up a bit. "Good night. I hope you figure it out and get over whatever is holding you back from telling Maura how you feel. You're bold by nature, and as much as it's always driven me crazy, it's one of the things I admire most about you. This lollygagging you've been doing for years doesn't flatter you. Make a decision already¸ would ya?" She turns around to face me once more. "You know why I always get up extra early on Black Friday, right?"

I'm so taken aback by her sudden subject matter change I can't think fast enough to answer. She rolls her eyes at me and I suddenly realize how similar we really are. It's terrifying.

"I go shopping early because that's when the best deals are. Every time I've waited, there's been too much competition for the one thing that I really want. Maura's in a league all of her own, and competition is fierce. Anyway, you know me, I hate to intrude. I won't worry if you're not here in the morning." She shoots me a sly smile before heading off to her bedroom.

Sighing, I flop dramatically back onto Maura's couch and pull the bedding over me. Jo regards me warily from her bed, a stern look on her face.

"What, do you have some insight on my personal life as well?"

Understandably, the terrier doesn't answer. Instead, she stands up, turns around three times, and lies back down in the bed, now with her back facing me.

I snort, "Figures. You're no help either."

Switching off the table lamp, I check my phone to make sure I have my sounds on in case Maura calls. She's called me every night this week, usually in the middle of the night. I don't know if I should be thrilled that she's calling me instead of Jack, or concerned she's not sleeping well.

I close my eyes, determined to get some sleep. Truthfully, I don't want to think about any of the things my mother just brought up. I know what I want; what I've always wanted. I've loved Maura as long as I've known her, as stupid as it sounds. I've just never been able to tell her.

My eyes snapping open, I roll them at myself. I'll risk my life countless times, go toe to toe with known criminals, but am too much of a chicken to share my true feelings with anyone? Pathetic. I close my eyes just for a second, determined to figure this out tonight. As much as I hate to admit it, my mother is right. There's no more time left for me to be miserable.

The next sound I hear is my phone ringing. My hand grasping out, I answer it without checking to see who it is. I know it's her.

"Maur, whassa matter?"

"I can't sleep," she responds. She sounds drawn tight and exhausted. I won't lie, part of me is overjoyed that she's not in Jack's arms, snoring peacefully after being fucked senseless by his perfect self. I shudder in disgust, sighing in despair at the thought of her with anyone other than me.

"Oh God," she chokes back a cry and I immediately feel guilty for wishing her unhappiness with Jack. She deserves so much better.

"God is sleeping. Just Jane," my attempt at humor is lost on both of us as I stretch out on her long couch. She doesn't respond and after a few seconds of silence, I notice her breathing change to a heavier, shorter pant.

I scrunch my face in confusion. "Maur?"

"I'm here, Jane," she answers quickly, almost frantically. Something is wrong, I know it.

"Do you want me to come over?" My question is purely rhetorical; I'm going over there regardless of her answer. Getting up from the couch I straighten my clothes and pull my hair back quickly. Shoving my feet into my running shoes, I don't even bother with the laces, determined to get there right away.

She finally responds. "Yes, Jane. If you wouldn't mind, I think having you here would be good for me."

I grab my small leather bag with my wallet and firearm off of the floor and sling it over my shoulder, "No problem. Be there in a minute."

My keys in hand, I lock the door to the guest house behind me; gasping as the cold almost takes my breath away. Quickly, I unlock the door to Maura's darkened house and disarm the alarm before it even has a chance to chime. I hurriedly make my way to her bedroom, determined to make sure she's okay.

A moan stops me in my tracks. Reaching for my firearm in my bag, my hand clenches around the handle and I'm about to draw it when I hear the moan again; more ragged this time. It sounds like sex; pure unadulterated sex and my stomach clenches in response. Is she having sex right now? The sound of her has an immediate effect on me and suddenly I feel dizzy, nauseous at the thought of finding her with someone else, and completely aroused by the noises she's making.

My eyes practically bug out of my head as I realize what else could be causing that sound. Is Maura really doing that? To herself? Just after getting off the phone with me? My cheeks flush and I struggle to control my breathing.

"Jane," I've never heard my name said like this; part gasp, part cry, and clearly laden with desire. I take the final ten feet to her bedroom practically in a single leap; landing in the center of her doorway. I close my eyes briefly, hoping I'm not going to see something upsetting. Instead, I'm rewarded with an image that will forever remain seared in my memory. Maura, in bed with her head thrown back and eyes closed, one hand moving steadily between her legs.

My mouth feels like I've swallowed cotton and I'm fully aware of my jaw hanging open. Catching flies, as my mother would say. I shake my head slightly and rub my eyes to ascertain I'm actually witnessing this. My hands twitch with envy as I imagine how silky she must feel; how wet. I can imagine how she would feel clenching around me and the thought of sliding my fingers inside of her makes my breathing becomes erratic. Maura's pale skin is visible in the darkened room thanks to the bright moonlight streaming in through the windows, and I've never loved the moon more. Her nightgown is pushed up around her muscular thighs and delicate toes clench the sheets. With her back arched, her breasts strain against the flimsy lace of the silver silk and I lick my lips in response. Seeing the tight tips of her nipples anxious to escape their confines sends a jolt down my stomach and I clench my thighs in response.

I have to have her; and as I take a step forward I fully intend on show her just how much I am consumed by her, how much I love her, and how much she means to me; but I stop myself. My hands trembling, I remain immobile and completely aware of what an utter fool I am. As she screams my name over and over I am overcome with arousal, guilt, and self-loathing. I can't tear my eyes away from her; I know I should leave before she sees me. It would be so easy to retreat unseen and re-arrive in a few minutes until the guise of not have witnessing a thing, but I can't. I'm powerless to do anything but watch the woman I'm in love with climax in front of me while screaming my name.

The voyeur in me cannot look away as she stands up, her gossamer nightgown sliding off to reveal all of her glorious skin underneath. Turning on the bedside lamp, she is bathed in golden light. Unable to stop myself, I let out a gasp. I've never seen anything like her; no one could be as perfect.

The beauty of her is insurmountable; silver and gold in the mixture of moonlight and lamplight, she appears as if the moon herself has taken a human form. The long strands of her hair are comets that shriek out in every direction, her glittering eyes are every star in every galaxy. My eyes trace every part of her over and over, willing myself to memorize each glorious inch of her perfection.

"How did you," her voice weakens.

"I, uh, I was at Ma's still," I respond quickly, my throat dry. I force myself to look away from her; she must already think I'm a pervert for standing here staring at her. I nervously continue talking, even though I know my next words are not completely truthful. "I must've fallen asleep on the couch. I woke up when you called with a blanket over me. That's why I said I'd only be a minute."

I hate lying to her. Why can't I just admit that I stayed over because I was so lonely? Tell her how I was hopeful to spend extra time with her in the morning? Confess to her that I couldn't walk away just now because I'm completely in love with her and have fantasized about seeing her like this countless times? My hands clench angrily at my sides and I open and close my mouth over and over, but the words won't come out.

"I thought it was merely a figure of speech," Maura responds and I notice her shudder slightly. Her flawless skin is covered in goose pimples, and she is either nervous or cold. Or both.

"Um, I'll let you get dressed," I am finally able to retreat and I do so, taking in wide gulps of air as I walk with purpose to her front door, fully intent on leaving in order to avoid dealing with this situation.

My hand trembles as I touch the doorknob. My soul feels as if it's torn in two; I so badly want to stay but I'm so afraid. I've been down this road before; I've gotten involved with someone I work with and it's never ended well. My dating history has proven to me that I'm incapable of being in a relationship, and Maura is worth so much more than a quick fuck, regardless of how desperately I want her. My entire body feels warm and is tingling. The thought of her spread out underneath me stops me in my tracks and I realize I could never leave her like this.

Suddenly, all of my fears seem foolish. I've been such a coward, and as much as I hate to admit it, my mother is right. I've spent my entire life actively pursuing what I want, why should I stop now? I've always leapt first and looked later, and I can't think of anywhere better I'd like to leap than into Maura's arms.

I've always told myself over and over again that I'm not good enough for Maura, yet she seems to think I am. Just as I would use all the pieces to put together a case, I start to analyze all of the pieces of the relationship between Maura and myself. It's me she calls in the middle of the night when she can't sleep, me who she chooses to unwind with at the Robber after work. When she's upset, she calls me first, when she's hurt or afraid it's my arms she falls into. My shoulder she leans on to find solace, my hands she grasps when she needs to make contact with another human. Me. Maura is the smartest person I know; will ever know. If she reaches out to me and only me, who am I to argue? Perhaps the only reason she's dated others is because I've made myself unavailable to her.

But there's a but, and a big one. She told me once that I'm not her type; and it's always bothered me. Yet her type consistently lets her down; I can't even begin to wrap my head around all of the losers she's dated. And I didn't just watch her pleasure herself while thinking about any of them, right? A sly grin appears where despair once was. I may have to do some convincing to reassure her that she needs to change her type, but if the amount of desire she has for me when she's alone is at all indicative of the amount she will have when my fingers are buried inside of her, I don't think it will take much convincing.

I don't have to change myself to make her happy; I already do. She only truly smiles for me; regardless of what kind of mood she's in I can make her laugh. If I go back in that room right now, the only thing that will change is now I will make her happy both dressed and undressed. And nothing has to change at work because I'm not stupid enough to ever want to break up with her; I'd die before I would let her out of my life. There will be no awkwardness, because I won't want to hide our relationship from anyone. All I need to do is continue being myself.

Standing fully upright, I square my shoulders and smile as years of insecurities seem to dissipate. My decision made, I turn back toward her bedroom, eager to show her how I really feel.

My elation turns to despair and my heart drops when I see her, still standing in the exact same position. She's crying. My chest clenches as I step to her and lightly touch the smooth line of skin from her thigh to her hip.

She trembles under my touch as I grasp her wrists; desperate to see her face. I don't release the pressure until she finally reveals herself; her tormented eyes jaded and uncertain. Releasing her hands, I make my touch as gentle as possible as I trace the edge of her cheek.

"Hi," she says; her voice hoarse and unsure.

I smile at her, feeling like a heel as I can't help but look down at her breasts. I can't help it; they're just perfect, and they are right there practically staring at me and just daring me to cup them and test their weight. Once I meet her eyes again, I am cowed by the amount of love and acceptance I find.

Surrendering completely, I kiss her. It's everything I thought it would be and more and the love I already carried for her seems to blossom into something even stronger. I make a point to touch as much of her naked body as possible, my hands unable to get enough of her skin.

She tickles my stomach beneath my clothes and moans in approval as she traces the taut muscles of my abdomen. I jump away in reflex, not having had the chance to shower after our workout earlier. Self-conscious, I move away from her and avert my eyes.

"Jane, I know we need to talk. I'm so sorry, I should have told you sooner; should have been honest with you, I should have…"

Ashamed, I realize she interpreted me moving away from her with rejection. I never want her to feel this way.

"Why haven't I ever told you how incredibly beautiful you are?" I attempt to put as much emotion into my voice as possible, my eyes boring into hers. "I want this Maur, more than you'll ever know, I just need some time." I should have added 'long enough for me to shower' but I thought she understood what I meant.

I thought wrong. Her face falls and her voice is softer than I've ever heard it, "Okay."

What's a little dried sweat between friends, anyway? It's not like I stink or anything, and the way she's looking at me now makes all thoughts about anything other than touching her vanish from my mind, except one.

"Fuck it," I growl as I take her in my arms and kiss her, this time like I've always wanted. She grasps at my back as I stroke her all over, her hand finally resting on my muscled forearm.

"I need more of you," she cries as I nip at her full lips. Capturing me in an intense kiss she pushes my arm down toward her sex. Giving her what we both want, I enter her forcefully without preamble and my knees tremble. She's hot and wet everything I ever imagined. I can't get enough of her and it seems as if the feeling is mutual as she starts to make sounds I've not even thought possible.

When she throws her head back, it brings her magnificent breasts close enough for me to finally worship them and I do. Nuzzling, sucking, and teasing her pink nipples while working my hand in and out of her has to be the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me. Before I know it, I'm backing her up to her bed and using one of my thighs to push her legs open more. I love the little gasps she makes as I reach inside her further, starting a slow rhythm that is clearly driving her crazy. She writhes and rolls her hips down to make more contact, groaning in response.

It's as if I'm consumed by her and unable to get enough. I kiss and lick and pinch every inch of her as I thrust into her, wanting to make her feel better than she ever has before.

When she begs me to fuck her harder, a tiny sliver of fear works its way down my spine.

"Don't want to hurt you," I tell her honestly, nothing but the truth for her from now on.

"You won't. Jane, I won't break. Please."

I pause and my eyes find hers. I've never been rewarded with such an expression of trust and acceptance. My hand stilled inside of her, I take a moment to memorize the feel of her sex clenched around my fingers; her delectable wetness coating my palm. Perfection. I fuck her harder than I ever thought I could; giving her everything I have. My fingers slide easily in and out of her and I can't help but notice how she flutters beautifully every time I reach for a certain spot inside of her. Making it a point to let my fingertips caress it each time I thrust in, I add an extra grind as I thrust out and am rewarded with a guttural moan each time. She's so close, I can feel it. The thought that I'm finally going to be the once to bring her to orgasm both in body and mind is too much. Over aroused, I find her nipple again and bite it roughly, knowing she will love it. I'm not wrong and as I feel her come undone around my fingers I flick my tongue over the tip, a precursor of what I will do to her down below, soon enough.

When she pulls my hair, I growl with renewed strength as I feel her fall over the edge. She shakes and trembles against me, crying out my name. Mine. Giving her no respite, I push her on again, relentless in my pace and am rewarded by feeling her climax again; even stronger this time.

"C'mon baby, come again for me," I coax her as I add an extra wrist flick each time I thrust into her. She obeys, and I realize I'm still not done with her. Pushing her over, I claim her like I've never claimed another, thrusting back inside of her. I can't get in enough of her as I reach inside deeper, adding another two fingers inside of her. She practically collapses as she struggles to stay on her knees and I wrap my free arm around her for support. Gratefully, she leans back onto me taking my hand impossibly further inside. Mine. Wantonly, she allows me to completely consume her as I bite her all over, marking her as my own. Mine. I'm so focused on her hot wet heat that I flinch in surprise as she reaches an impossibly strong orgasm, screaming my name over and over; chanting it as if it were her mantra. Mine.

With one final lurch she collapses against me; boneless and utterly exhausted. I make no effort to hide my delighted smile as I wrap my arms around her and softly kiss her dewy neck; her pulse point rapid and strong against my lips. Tenderly, I brush her hair back and nibble her perfect earlobe, before murmuring into her ear how much I love her, how beautiful she is, how wonderful she felt, and countless other little declarations of adoration.

She murmurs a request for me to repeat everything I'm saying and I smile against her hair. I can't get enough of her; my hands relentless in the attempt to memorize every freckle and curve.

When I feel her breathing start to regulate, I help her turn over; determined to see her eyes. The expression I see there is everything I hoped for, shining with love and adoration and no signs of regret. When her gaze drops to stare at my mouth, I lean over to kiss her; gently and patient, completely different from before.

She has a mouth that begs to be worshipped, her full and soft lips part just enough for my tongue to slide through and I feel as if I could kiss her forever. It would be so easy to allow myself to become entangled in her again; enamored by the smell of her perfume and silky hair, and ignore everything else.

Still, I can't help but feel anxious about what this means and where this is going and reluctantly, I break away from her. Cursing my innate need for information even at the most inopportune time, I know I need a few answers from her.

"Sooooooooo," I start nervously, "um, that was fun." I smile to try and lessen my concerns, raising my eyebrows at her in an attempt to make us both laugh. Her answering chuckle is a delightful melody to my ears and I join in for a few seconds.

"Fun? That's the best you can come up with? I could think of several more suitable words to describe what just happened if you hadn't given me several amazing orgasms." Maura's smile grows wider and I feel a little puff of pride which causes me to feel incredibly smug.

"Three," I answer, my bravado showing through, "I'm pretty sure it was three orgasms." _Four, if you count my imaginary self, who was obviously responsible for your solo act. _The thought goes through my head quickly and I decide not to say it aloud in case it embarrasses her.

"I'm very sure it was," she agrees, nestling into my embrace. I barely manage to contain my gasp of surprise as her hand deftly works its way under my pants. So much for my self-controlled bravado. "Jane, I know there's a lot to talk about but all I can focus on at the moment is getting you out of these clothes."

I can't help myself. "Jack?"

"He has been very kind and sweet to me, and I do care for him. Jane, he's been a distraction; something to keep me preoccupied while I gathered the courage to tell you how I really felt. There's never been anyone like you for me. You must know that."

Her words come out in a rush, as if she's been practicing them and there really isn't the correct word for the relief I feel. Well, I'm sure Maura would know it if I asked her, but all I can think about is her wandering hand that is now teasing the outline of my underwear. Hiding the tremor in my voice, I struggle to maintain a little of the control I just held over her.

"I, uh, think you made that pretty clear tonight when I walked in on you screaming my name. Oh Jane, Jaaaaannnneeeeeeeeeee, Jaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

I love the sound of our combined laughs, using the opportunity to fondle her breasts again when she throws her head back. Much to my surprise, a feral growl escapes Maura's throat as she pushes me back on the bed and climbs on top of me. I forget to breathe as I take in the sight of her naked body pinning mine.

It would take less than a second for me to remove myself from her grasp and regain control, but when she opens her mouth to tell me she wants to hear me scream out her name, I gladly give myself to her.. As Maura grinds her hips into mine, her breasts bobbing delightfully in the dim lighting, I reach up to palm them and enjoy the way her eyes darken with arousal. Grinning, I lie back and enjoy the ride, there's plenty of time for me to reassert myself here in the bedroom if needed; gratefully, it seems as if we will have all the time in the world.


	3. Chapter 3

Loving the feedback I'm receiving on this – thanks everyone! Here is the final chapter – enjoy!

* * *

Biting back a smile, her gasp makes my insides flutter as I run my tongue around a dusky nipple, teasing it into a taut peak. The flutter turns into a more distinct burn as her long fingers tangle in my hair and draw my mouth even closer. Happily obliging, I continue my ministrations until she's squirming underneath me, softly moaning my name. I only stop when I feel her gently tug my hair insistently.

"Yes?" My mouth now free, I gaze into her sleepy, darkened eyes.

"I love you," her smile is wide and carefree; and although I know it's just a chemical reaction brought upon by my emotional state, I actually feel as if my heart melts. I want to wake up to her smile every day for the rest of my life. "I mean, you know I love you, but I'm in love with you." Her eyebrows raised, she emphasizes the _in_.

"And I'm in love with you," I respond truthfully, finally understanding the sentiments commonly associated with the word. For several seconds we stare at each other like lovesick teenagers until the intensity of the moment causes me to feel overwhelmed. Feeling the need to retreat, just for a moment, I turn my head and lay it carefully on her chest. Her heart pounds against my ear as her hands stroke my bare back. I've never felt like this before and it's terrifying. Instead of allowing my fears to take over, I close my eyes and concentrate on the anchoring presence of my detective underneath me, clutching at me as if I'm the most prized possession in the world. I focus on the relaxing cadence of her breathing, the steady pounding of her heart. Pounding of her heart?

"Jane, are you aware that you're exhibiting signs of tachycardia?"

She snorts, her chest vibrating under my cheek. "Does that mean my heart is racing? If so, then yes, I'm aware."

I frown slightly and push myself upwards to study her expression. "Have you been having issues with your heart rate? Jane, that's something that needs to be checked right away. I'll call my friend who's a cardiologist see if he can fit you in this afternoon."

"Calm down, would ya? I don't have anything wrong with me. My heart's all worked up because I just woke up to you doing obscene things to my boob, that's all." She embraces me domineeringly and I gratefully allow myself to sink back down into her arms.

"Are you sure that's it?"

"I promise. But you're more than welcome to check my heart rate any time you'd like." I take note of the quiet gentleness of her voice and suddenly feel foolish. Of course tachycardia is a normal symptom of sexual arousal; I just have always been hyper-vigilant to Jane's well-being, even more so now.

"I'm sorry," I tell her quietly, still embarrassed.

"I'm glad you look out for me," she responds and I delight in the low sincerity of her tone. Her hands start to roam again, exploring every inch of my body as if she were trying to memorize it. I shudder when she discovers a particular sensitive area and she thrusts her hips upward in response.

"Maurrrra," she warbles as she clenches my hips, rolling me against her roughly. "How is it that I need you again already?"

Placing my hand firmly on the mattress to either side of her, I lift myself up, my hips undulating down to meet hers at an even better angle. We groan in unison, her breath hitching. Her eyes are impossibly black; her hair spread out on my pillow like a dark corona. Her pink lips are stretched into a smile that reveals dazzling white teeth; a leer that is pure seduction. She is not just beautiful; she is the epitome of feminine beauty. I cannot fathom why she would ever choose me, but I am so grateful she did.

"We're going to be late for work, aren't we?" I'm surprised I can even manage a complete sentence with the way she's moving me against her. Normally, the thought of being late would give me anxiety, but today I don't care. I am utterly enthralled with the woman currently writhing under me.

Without warning, I'm flipped onto my back with almost six feet of suddenly very-awake and very aroused detective on top of me. She flashes me a feral smile before lowering her mouth to mine.

"Oh yeah we are."

* * *

Sliding into my heels, I check the time on the kitchen clock once more. If we grab a quick breakfast on the way in, we won't be as late as I feared. Jane had the thoughtful idea to share a shower to save on time and I can't help but feel my face flush as I remember perfectly the feel of sliding my hands up her lathered thighs just before I tasted her for the first time.

In the end, the shower didn't seem to save us any time at all, but it was a valid suggestion.

Buttoning my coat, I hit the remote starter on my car key and hook my clutch over my elbow.

"Jane?"

"Two minutes!"

I can't believe I'm ready before she is, I muse to myself. She always mocks me for carefully planning my outfit for each day the night before, but it certainly is a time saver.

I decide to use the time to check my emails and as I pick up my phone I see I have several missed text messages from Jack. My eyes widen in surprise as I read the most recent one just as I hear a knock on the door.

Oh no.

My shoulders sagging, I answer the door. Jack, dressed in a smart overcoat and looking exceptionally handsome, is leaning up against the door while holding two steaming cups of coffee.

"Morning, beautiful," he leans in for a kiss which I politely avoid by backing away. Confused, the questioning in his eyes causes me to flinch back even further from the door, which he takes as an invitation to enter. I've always dreaded the break-up part of all of my previous relationships; I absolutely despise being the cause of anyone's emotional torment.

"You obviously didn't get my texts, I see." There's that charismatic smile again as he motions for me to take one of the coffees, which I graciously decline. "Anyway, I just thought it would be nice to see you before work. It looks like I just caught you on the way out."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Jack. However, we do need to talk and now is neither the time nor place. I'm running late for work this morning and really need to be on my way."

"Uh oh, the dreaded talk. I'm assuming it's nothing to be worried about?" His charm, which I once found appealing, is now lost on me.

"You know what they say about the word assume, Jack." A raspy voice is easily heard from behind me and I close my eyes in response. This can't be happening. "It makes an ass outta you and me."

"Ah, Jane. Good morning." His eyes flick from her to me and I grimace in response. "And yes, I've heard that definition of the word before. It's quite popular among my students."

"Actually, Jane was referring to a common adage for the word, not the definition." Once I speak I immediately regret it. Turning to meet Jane's eyes, I beg with mine for her to behave. Message received, she gives me an apologetic smile.

"Maura, we really need to be on our way," she places a hand on the small of my back possessively before releasing me. Even through my wool coat, her touch is as strong as if I were wearing nothing. "I'll wait in the car."

Excusing herself politely, she takes one of the coffees from the tray Jack is carrying and gives him a bright smile, thanking him on the way out.

Once she closes the door, he glances at me, dumbfounded. I feel the heat rush to my face, hoping I can put an end to the situation as soon as possible without causing much discomfort.

"Maura, what's wrong?" His voice low, he sets the remaining coffee down on my counter. Placing his hand on my arm, his eyes are clearly concerned. "Why do I feel as if I'm missing something here?"

I'm not sure how to answer him, and internally I work out several sentences to see what sounds the best. They all sound terrible, and in the end I opt for the simplest explanation.

"What happened?" He asks again, his other hand reaching for me. Ducking my head, I back out of his grasp.

"Jane happened," I state plainly, apologetically.

As I watch him absorb the situation, I reflect on those two words. Jane happened. Never did I think it would be possible for another person to change my life in so many ways. Jane was my first real friend, the person that taught me how to confide in another; how to trust someone. Without her influence, I would have never have learned the beauty of just 'hanging out' and the importance of being able to be completely relaxed in the presence of another human being. Jane taught me how to be comfortable in my own skin by show me how comfortable she is in hers. She is the first person to like me for myself; and seeing myself through her eyes I don't feel so much like Maura the bore-a anymore. When I am with her I feel everything; absolutely overwhelming, but addictive. Jane has taught me how to live. I'm not sure when my feelings of friendship turned into something more; although I do know that it wasn't a sudden revelation. It could be best defined as a slow evolution of sentiments, an emotional journey through life's complexities and simplicities; perhaps even an inevitable joined ending for two very different individuals. Regardless of how I could ever manage to eloquently describe how Jane and I went from friendship to a more serious relationship, the phrase 'Jane happened' seems to just sum it up better than any other long-winded string of words.

Staring at me, I'm able to easily decipher his reaction. His expression hasn't changed, and I realize from the resigned sadness that has graced his face since Jane spoke that he's known all along what the actual issue with our relationship is. Where I expect anger, I find none; only quiet acceptance. Sadly, he gives me a small smile.

"Ah, I'm not sure what to say." He runs his hand through his hair sheepishly. "Other than I had a feeling this was going to happen. I mean, I know the two of you have been friends for a long time, but I could see something else there." He grimaces before continuing, "I certainly understand. You're very easy to fall for, Maura."

"I'm sorry, Jack." I couldn't be more truthful. "You're a wonderful man, you really are. If my situation was different, I know I could have reciprocated your feelings. I never intended for you to get hurt, and certainly did not mean to lead you on. I honestly did not see my relationship with Jane ever progressing to this level; I was not aware of the feelings she had for me."

He chuckles, not unkindly. "Maura, you'd have to be blind to not see it." Clearing his throat he glances at his watch. "Well, the morning is getting away from us. I should let you get to work, and, uh, well, I guess this is goodbye." His eyes are sad as he leans is as if he's going to hug me before pulling himself back and giving me an awkward wave. Grabbing his coffee from the counter, he practically bolts outside.

"Goodbye, Jack." After he closes the door behind him I take a moment to settle myself. He was much more understanding and reasonable than I expected him to be. All in all, I feel as if it went as well as it could have. A small part of me absolutely feels guilty; he did seem like a good man and I do feel as if both of us assumed our relationship would progress in a traditional manner. However, Jane happened.

Jane. The thought of her erases any remaining guilt associated with Jack's unexpected visit. The need to see her is strong so I quickly place my phone in my purse, straighten my coat and lock the door behind me.

When I open my car door, the faint traces of her perfume prick my senses. She sits quietly, her eyes regarding me quizzically.

"You okay?" A raven brow is arched as she takes a slow sip of her coffee before returning the cup to her lap.

I study her elegant face; the strong jawline, pronounced cheekbones, impossibly dark eyes with well-defined delicate lashes, and sly smile. The hand that holds her cup fiddles with the cardboard edge. The other reaches for mine and grasps it tightly, squeezing until her prominent knuckles turn white; as if she's never going to let me go.

"Yes," I tell her warmly, "I'm more than okay."

"Is he pissed? What happened?" She tries to remain calm, but I sense the anxiousness in her questions.

I've never smiled wider as I respond, "Jane happened."


	4. Chapter 4

I am so pleased to announce that this story has been nominated for Best NC-17 on the Rizzles Fan Awards site! I have no idea who made the nomination, but THANK YOU!

As a token of my appreciation, here is a bonus chapter of this story.

Voting starts tomorrow - March 11th, so please head on over to the Rizzles Fan Awards website, read some great stories &amp; vote for your favorite!

* * *

The elevator chimes in unison with my phone as I step into the crowded space, smiling at a few of the officers I recognize. As I lean over to push the button for Jane's floor, a particularly short detective does it for me. Thanking him brightly, he nods in response. Flushing slightly, his voice is high-pitched as he stammers, "I, uh, figured you were going to visit Rizzoli."

His response warms my insides as my phone chimes again, reminding me of the unread text. My smile widens when I see Jane's name lit up on my screen. Giddy with anticipation, I open the text just as we arrive at her floor.

_I'm bored out of my mind and up to my ears in stupid paperwork. I just wanted to let you know that I would much rather be back in your shower, fucking you slowly while you beg me for more. _

Gasping loudly in surprise, I feel my face flush scarlet. I do not have to look up from my phone to know that everyone else in the elevator is staring at me. Ignoring them, I clear my throat loudly and bolt off of the elevator the second the doors open.

I see her sitting at her desk, her back to me. I can tell from the slight movement of her hair that she is glancing between her paperwork in front of her and her phone sitting off to her left. She's obviously waiting for my reply. Never in my life would I think Jane Rizzoli would be the kind of person to send lewd text messages; especially while working. She never fails to surprise me!

Hearing my heels click on the floor, she turns around slowly in her chair. "Wow, you came fast," she responds in a low drawl; her eyebrows waggling.

"Nice double entendre," I stammer; unable to take my eyes off of her hands as they rest on her spread thighs.

Her smile is languid and lazy as she purposely trails her hands down, teasing her thumbs over the inner seam on her pants. Dark eyes almost black, she smirks as I take a sudden intake of air. "Is that what the kids are calling it now? I thought a double entendre was when you had one hand working on the front while the other reaches around the back, spreads the cheeks and.."

"Jane!"

She holds her hands up in mock surrender, laughing. She is a vision this morning, her form-fitting charcoal pants complimenting her dark burgundy v-neck top. Her hair is still damp from our shared shower and I clench my thighs together thinking about our earlier escapades. She seems to know exactly what I'm thinking about, as her inherent confidence is more pronounced.

"I can't help it, it's been a slow day so far and I have so many other interesting things to think about." Reaching out, she makes contact with my hand and pulls me in closer to her until I'm resting against her desk. Her long fingers circle my wrist and she rubs the sensitive skin there as her eyes bore into mine.

"What kind of things are you thinking about?" I can't help but ask the question, even though I already know the answer. Somehow, hearing Jane vocalize her desire for me is a powerful aphrodisiac that I have already greedily started to crave.

Sighing, she blows an unruly curl out of her face and it takes all the self-control I have not to push it into place. I'm not sure exactly how demonstrative Jane will want us to be about our relationship in public, especially at work.

The suggestive text message, romantic touches, and overtly sexual vocabulary are things I've not experienced with Jane before. She is usually not this open, especially in a public setting.

"You," she admits easily and my heart soars. "I've always thought about you a lot, Maur. You know, before all of this. Probably too much," she smiles with the admission. Her eyes burn an impossible black as she continues and her voice is as low and languid as a hot summer day. "But now that I know what it's actually like to take you," her voice cracks as she clenches her fingers around my wrist harshly; "and taste you, I realize that I'm obsessed with you. I just can't get enough."

I start to respond but I am at a loss of words. Instead, I shrug my shoulders helplessly and decide to lean forward and fix Jane's hair. My hand traces down her powerful jawline and lithe neck before stopping to land on her toned shoulder.

"The feeling is mutual," I respond softly.

"Well that's good. I'd hate for it to be one sided," she turns her head to place a quick kiss to my hand still resting atop her shoulder. Clearing her throat, she continues, "No one's around for me to throw things at, so I decided to stop obsessively thinking about you and just text you instead."

Indeed, the floor is conspicuously quiet.

I adjust myself against her desk, suppressing a shudder as our legs brush. "I'm glad you did," I tell her honestly.

The look in her eyes is almost predatory as she places a hand on my stocking-clad calf. My eyes widen in surprise as she starts to stroke my leg in earnest. When her lip finally twitches it is almost my undoing and I frantically grab her hand and clench it in mine. We must look incredibly foolish; gazing at each other adoringly with our hands clenched.

I don't care.

I'm so overwhelmed by love and adoration for this woman that my chest tightens and I feel short of breath. Leaning further against her desk for support, I refuse to release her hand; instead grasping it with all of the remaining strength I have. Jane makes me feel things that I did not think were possible.

"You have to stop," I murmur to her.

"Don't wanna," she whispers as she half-heartedly attempts to free her hand. As I refuse to let her go her expression dissolves into a pout. "You make me so damn happy," the pout fades and is replaced by her trademark grin. "Besides, it's so boring here today and you're so beautiful. Why should I ever want to stop?"

"Haven't you had enough?" As soon as the question leaves my mouth, I know Jane will pick up on the purposeful double entendre.

"Never. Maura, I've never felt like this. It's like I'm a whole different person, and I like it." Her eyes continue to smolder as I search her face for any signs of deception. I find none. I don't know how to respond to her, my eyes frantically lock on hers, hoping she understands. I open and close my mouth several times, but the words will not come. How can I tell her that I've been waiting for her to be like this with me for years? That I almost jumped off of that bridge after her? That I would give her my very last breath if she needed it?

Hopelessly, I clench her hand to my heart, spreading her fingers so she can feel it beating.

Her eyes darken even further and she leaves it in place, even when a few officers pass by.

"Let's get out of here. It's slow, we'll keep our cell phones on in case we get a call, and no one will even miss us." Her voice is little more than whisper; pleading.

Reluctantly, I release her hand.

"I can't, love. I have to leave in a few minutes; I came up here to tell you. I just received a call requesting me to be on the South Shore for the remainder of the afternoon for a consult with another ME. I was going to ask if you wanted me to swing back by here and pick you up after I was done, or if you wanted to get a ride home with your mother."

She wrinkles her nose; clearly annoyed.

"I'm sorry," I really am, there is nothing I'd like to do more than play hooky with her.

"Well, I'll walk you to your car at least." A resigned sigh is the only evidence of her displeasure and she immediately reaches out to make contact with my lower back on our way to the elevator. Stopping quickly in the morgue, I gather the supplies I will need as well as my pocketbook and jacket, which I sling over my arm.

Jane's hand is warm against the silk of my dress as she ushers me out of the precinct. We don't speak as we walk quickly across the parking lot and as I shiver against the brisk cold of the morning she moves her arm casually to drape across my shoulders. Delighted, I lean into her, immediately feeling warmer.

I can't help but notice a few curious glances from a few of our co-workers we pass on our way to my car, but Jane simply nods at them as we continue to walk. Her spontaneous acceptance of our new relationship status is enthralling and I know I'm grinning like a fool.

Reaching our destination, I am glad to see we are now alone. Hopeful for a goodbye kiss, I lean in close to Jane. She smiles coyly and instead opens the car door for me, closing it chivalrously once I'm inside. To my surprise, she slides into the passenger seat, folding her lanky legs in to shut the door behind her.

Without preamble I am backed up against the inside of the car, with almost six feet of amorous detective in my space. Her teeth flash white in the dim lighting and I'm so mesmerized by the hungry look in her eyes I feel my mouth go dry. I swallow audibly.

"I'll miss you," she tells me softly before lowering her lips to mine to capture me in an electric kiss. I'm so caught up in the moment, I'm barely aware of her hands roughly spreading my thighs. I come to my senses as I feel a pair of quivering fingers reach to trace the bare skin between my stockings and underwear.

"Jane, you have to stop." My voice is low; haggard. It's killing me to make this decision, but I know we can't do this here, regardless of how much I am aching for her.

"I know," she groans into my mouth as her fingers shove my underwear aside and trace through my wetness. "But I need to feel you, just for a second."

Her words set me on fire and my hips act of their own volition, tilting toward her to allow better access. I become lightheaded as she pushes two fingers inside. Nothing in the world can feel this good, and although I know we need to stop, I'm powerless to make her do so.

As quickly as she enters me, she pulls out and slides back into her seat, a smug smile present. My thighs tremor and stomach trembles at the loss of her.

"That was cruel," I manage to sputter, panting wildly.

"I'm sorry," she responds; from the cracking of her voice and sympathetic eyes and I know she is being truthful. "I can't resist you, Maur. I have a problem."

I press my thighs together in agony and close my eyes, taking a few seconds to compose myself. "Get out; I'm going to be late." My voice is crosser than I intend, and I give her a begrudging smile to show I'm not really angry with her.

"I'll make it up to you when we get home?" Her dark eyes are hopeful and my smile turns genuine.

"Your statement sounds like a question, detective. I'd rather it sound like a promise." This time, I lean into her for a searing kiss. "You owe me."

She smiles against my mouth before excusing herself. "A debt I can't wait to repay."

I can't help but watch her walk away and flush with surprise when she turns to face me, bringing her fingers to her mouth and grinning suggestively as she savors my taste.

My head falls to the steering wheel, hitting it with a loud thump. Her laugh echoes loudly through the empty parking lot as I give her one last wary glace, watching her walk away with an unusually pronounced swagger.

Long minutes pass and my mind is unable to concentrate on anything else except Jane.

Replaying her words over in my mind, I reflect on how she said she felt like a different person. I understand as I feel the same. Having Jane love me for who I am and most importantly, accept me for who I am is a powerful thing; and it is an addictive feeling.

The way the corners of her eyes crinkle when she looks at me is more potent than any kiss from any other lover. One touch from her and I'm completely powerless; bound to her whims instantly. The most peculiar part is how willingly I've given myself to her; body and heart. Never before have I been so complacent to share everything I have or everything I am with another. It's just easy to be with Jane.

Perhaps it's this easy because I've always given all I have to Jane, even from the beginning. From the beginning of our friendship she was always more important to me than anyone else. I've shared things with her emotionally that I would never share with another, and now I'm sharing things with her physically as well.

The ghost of her presence lingers; a trace of her cologne on the car seat, the tickle of her hair against my face, and the fullness of her fingers inside of me. Feeling another wave of arousal surge through me, I grip the steering wheel tightly and bite my lip. She knew exactly what she was doing to me, the little hedonist. \Speak of the devil, my phone chimes indicating a text from her. Frowning at the easily-moving traffic, I realize I will have to wait several minutes until I reach the next traffic light to safely read it.

It chimes again, two more times. I tap the steering wheel anxiously, knowing if it were an emergency she would call. Texting while driving is the number one cause of all motor vehicle accidents, and Jane is aware of my strict policy against it. This is just one more way for her to torment me; and I smirk to myself. What is the common adage? Oh yes, payback's a bitch.

I giddily cheer when the light ahead turns yellow, grabbing for my phone as I slow to a stop.

_I'm trying to decide if I want to fuck you in the car as soon as we pull into your driveway, or if I want to make you wait until after we entertain my mother and brothers. You know how late they can stay, especially with the Celts playing. _

I groan in frustration. I had completely forgotten tonight was family dinner night.

_I'm also trying to decide if I want my mouth on you or if I want to take you from behind with one of those toys I found in your nightstand while I was snooping around this morning._

_Decisions, decisions. Do you have a preference? _

Glancing at the light, I quickly type out my response. _Please don't make me wait, Jane. I'll do whatever you want, just don't make me wait. _

The light turns green just as I hit send. My insides are quaking as I continue to drive, my phone chiming mercifully the entire time. To add to my torment, I sail through green light after green light until I reach the parking lot of the Scituate precinct. My hands unsteady, I read the rest of her messages once I park.

_You sound flustered, are you okay? ;)_

_I think it will be my mouth tonight – one quick taste wasn't enough. Your essence is lingering on my tongue and it's driving me crazy._

_You better not be texting while you're driving. _

_Just talked to Ma, she's making lasagna. _

_Do you have any idea how soft your skin is? It's like silk. And how do you always smell so good? When my fingers are buried inside you, it feels like heaven. Do you miss my fingers, Maur?_

_Where are you? Can you take a lunch break? We could eat out. _

_(Bad joke) but admit it, you laughed. _

She's right, I did.

_Anyway, I'm gonna get the rest of this paperwork done and get out of here. I'll meet you at home. Ma's coming over at 6 to start dinner, you better be here before then or it's gonna be a really long evening. Hurry home and I'll fuck you senseless, however you'd like. Unless you would rather wait. _

I type back one word as it's the only one I can muster. I hope I can convey my tone. _JANE. _

Her response is immediate and I smile in relief.

_Don't worry Maur, I can't wait either. No one better get murdered before I can have you, I swear to God. _

Bringing my phone to my ear, I decide to call her quickly as I gather my belongings and walk toward the precinct.

"Domino's Pizza," she answers gleefully.

"You're impossible," I grin into the phone as if she could see me. "Jane, I'm at the Scituate precinct and I expect my consult to be handled quickly. I plan on leaving here at a reasonable time in order to be home early enough for our meeting prior to the scheduled dinner plans." I nod at the officer seated at the reception desk as I show my credentials.

Pointed toward the morgue, I walk quickly down the quiet hallway.

"You better be."

"Is that a threat, detective?" I ignore a curious look from a passing technician as I push open the door to the morgue.

"Oh yeah it is."

The ME crosses to greet me and I hold up my index finger.

"I look forward to seeing how it plays out," I continue. "Of the two things we were discussing, the answer to the first is option one; option two is not acceptable. For the second, either option you mentioned before would be more than sufficient; however, if you'd prefer option number two, there's a better suited appendage located in the bottom drawer of the island that is located in the walk in closet."

I hear a loud crack followed by muttered cursing. "Detective?"

"Ah, I'm fine Maur. Okay, see you soon. Be careful."

She disconnects the call and I regard my phone curiously before slipping it into my pocketbook. Smiling widely at the ME, I ignore the confused look on his face as politely greet each other.

Improperly handled evidence, unsanitary techniques, and general ineptitude in such an important line of work are a few of the many issues with this staff. My simple consult turned into a several-hours long lecture about proper training and respect for the job. My entire drive home was spent emailing a voice-dictated memo to the ME's superior about the disdainful things I witnessed today.

Sitting at the last traffic light before arriving home, I glance at the clock. I can't believe it's already 5:34; I had wanted to be home hours ago. We're never going to have time before Angela's arrival to make dinner. Aggravated, I send Jane a quick text to tell her I'm at the light by the corner.

I really hope Angela hasn't taken it upon herself to be early today; after the annoying afternoon I've had, I need Jane even more than ever.

No sooner do I unlock the door and get inside that I find myself pressed back against it. My detective wastes no time, saying hello to me quickly before falling to her knees and shoving my dress up roughly, tearing at my stockings frantically.

"Jane, what happened to your face?" Her face is covered in some type of black stain; and from the reddened skin around it it's clear she tried to scrub it off.

"Pen exploded; you're late."

"I'm sorry!" I gasp loudly as she savagely bites my inner thigh. I don't hold back my loud cry as she unceremoniously rips my underwear down and covers me with her mouth. She takes me in her arms, holding me in place, as her tongue flicks mercilessly over my enflamed sex.

I moan raggedly as I entwine my hands in her hair, holding her exactly where I want. "I love you," I say over and over as a mantra.

"I know," she says smartly before resuming her torrid assault on my engorged clit. She delicately holds it between her teeth, sucking and nursing it while flicking her tongue rapidly simultaneously. It's almost too much yet not enough and I grip her forearm in desperation.

"Inside me, please, quickly." My demand is heard and my head lolls back against the wooden door hard as she enters me roughly. The combination of her thrusting fingers and worship of my clit is utterly divine and I know I'm not going to last long.

Just as I'm about to climax, she stops.

I let out a torrid scream and bang the door with my fists in frustration.

"Did you hear a knock? I think Ma is here," Jane's innocent dark eyes meet mine. She smirks; her fingers twitching inside me deliciously. "Just kidding, that was payback for being so late."

She resumes her ministrations, but at a maddeningly slow pace that leaves me quaking and aching for more. I claw against the door as she adds a little extra twist of her fingers each time, causing sounds escape my throat that I've never heard myself make before. I'm groaning and moaning and bucking against the door frantically. Jane wraps her free hand securely around my legs, helping me to stand as I start to lose my balance.

Reaching deep inside me, I shudder when her fingers graze that spot over and over as her tongue works incessantly to bring me over the edge. Boneless, I practically collapse as she brings me to an overpowering orgasm, and I cry triumphantly as she pushes me to an even-greater high.

Finally it ends, and Jane dashingly stands to allow me to collapse into her arms, placing a soft kiss to my temple.

"I love you," I tell her dreamily, my mind pleasantly foggy.

"I know, I'm pretty great."

Chuckling, I pull her closer. "You are greater than great, love."

"The greatest." Her voice is low in my ear, causing me to shudder.

"I concur, you're easily the greatest." I kiss her cheek, suddenly remembering something. "How did a pen explode on your face?"

She laughs and the sound is pure joy to my ears. "I, uh, was chewing on a pen and it exploded."

I place both hands flat against her chest and push her away gently. "Jane," I admonish, "I've told you the dangers of ingesting ink. Please stop chewing on your pens."

"Hey, it wasn't my fault! I was innocently chewing on my pen and you start talking about your magic drawer of toys and it exploded on me."

Tsking, I shake my head at her. "What am I going to do with you?"

She tilts her head, looking down at me with raised eyebrows. "Whatever you like."

I hook my fingers in the waistband of her faded sweats. She's changed her clothes since work; her tight white t-shirt hugging all the right places.

"Oh, I like," I respond as I place a sultry kiss to her exposed collarbone. She signs happily before removing herself from my grasp.

"Later," she says apologetically, "Ma's due any minute. Let's eat, watch the game, and then you can show me how great you think I am." Before I can object, she tenderly helps me pull my dress down and regain some semblance of order. I feel her nervously looking at my frayed stockings.

"Uh, sorry," she starts and I shush her.

"Don't be." Giving her a lewd smile, I lean forward and gently kiss her, removing all traces of myself from her mouth. "It was worth it, and it's not the first time a pair has gotten wrecked." I feel her scowl under my lips and I deepen the kiss, my tongue seeking hers. I kiss her like I've never kissed anyone; offering my entire heart and soul to her, which she greedily accepts.

Once we break apart, breathless and panting, we are unable to keep our eyes off of each other. Straightening my dress, I kick the frayed stockings away, not missing the wounded look on her face.

"I go through a few pair of stockings a week, Jane it's almost impossible to predict what type of environment I will be forced to conduct my work in. It's very easy to get a run in stockings, and I do like to be prepared." Smiling brightly at her, I reach a hand out to push her tangled curls back into place. "Believe me, you are the only person who could convince me to engage in illicit sexual relations during my scheduled work time."

This stokes her ego enough for her to give me a slow smile. "It was pretty hot, huh?"

"You have no idea," I respond honestly, feeling the tremors still from my orgasm. "I wish I could explain to you how you make me feel. It's like nothing else I have ever experienced."

"Yeah, well you're not too shabby yourself." She reaches for my face and traces my cheekbone reverentially. "You're perfect."

"Jane, perfection doesn't exist. The very notion of it is an abstract creation that can never be accurately validated or.."

"You can mumble all the scientific babble in the world, but you will never convince me otherwise. It does exist because you do." Her eyes are soft in apology for interrupting, but it's not necessarily. I am utterly charmed by this woman.

The moment is over prematurely when we hear a knock on the door.

"Go, get changed. I'll let her in."

Gratefully, I pick up my ruined stockings and scurry off to the bedroom as I hear Angela boisterously enter.

As I'm about to discard the stockings, an idea arrives in my mind and quickly takes hold. Smirking, I quickly tie the stockings to the headboard. Jane has no idea what's in store for her and I can't wait for the evening to commence.

"Maur, Ma wants to know if you want a salad…" her voice trails off as she enters the bedroom, immediately noticing the tied stockings. Her eyebrows rise comically and she gives me a wry grin. "Do you think I'm going to run off or something?"

"No," I tell her seductively as I allow my dress to drop to the floor. Crossing over to her, I rub up against her like an overzealous kitten. "I just plan on showing you how difficult it is to wait for release." I nip at the small cleft in her chin and she moans, shutting her eyes. "I'm going to tie you up so I can touch you, taste you, and fuck you until you're begging me to let you come."

"Jesus," she hisses as she reaches around to palm my backside. Deftly, I reach inside her waistband and gently tease her inner thigh. I shudder when I feel how wet she is for me but remove my hand quickly.

Pushing her away, I don't miss the incredulous look she gives me.

"Payback's a bitch, love."

* * *

Perhaps I'll continue this story for a bit…..there are so many fun things to write about!


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for all the great feedback and encouragement to continue this story! And a special thank you to nicolaruth27!

Please forgive any typos, I really need a Beta. Anyone interested in the job? I have a few projects I'm working on, including an AU.

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Maura brushed her hands down the soft material of her dress, smoothing imperceptible wrinkles as she regarded herself in the mirror critically. The second Boston Police Foundation Gala was starting in less than an hour and Jane still wasn't home. Last year, the inaugural Gala was a resounding success, and Maura had the privilege of attending as Jane's best friend and work colleague. This year, it would be the first public appearance they made as a couple and to say the fair doctor was excited was an understatement. Maura had been planning her outfit Gfor weeks; determined to find the perfect gown that would complement the deep blue of Jane's dress uniform.

Fixing her hair for the umpteenth time, she adjusted a few honey blonde curls; pinning them back expertly before touching up her lipstick. Sighing forlornly, she snapped a picture of herself in the mirror and texted it to Jane.

_About to leave for the Gala and I wish you were with me. XO_

She pulled on her light dress coat and stepped out into the chilly March evening alone. She spent the majority of the short drive to the event thinking about her lover; wishing the tall detective was sitting next to her, fidgeting with the collar of her uniform and humming along to the radio.

Realistically, Maura knew that Jane would prefer to be where she was, knowing how much she hated formal events. The case she was stuck working on had been plaguing her for weeks and this afternoon they had finally tracked down the prime suspect and had hauled him in for questioning. Jane was breathless with anticipation to start the interrogation and warned Maura she may be late. Realistically, the blonde knew how important it was for a potential murderer to be off of the street and held responsible for his crime, but she was still disappointed to attend the Gala alone.

Handing her keys to the valet, she checked her phone one last time before turning the sounds off. Still no word from Jane and the blonde M.E. tried to hide her disappointment. Forcing a bright smile onto her face she stepped through the majestic doorway and into the well-dressed crowd. She quickly said hello to a few acquaintances she recognized and joined in on a few conversations as she made her way around the room, ever the natural socialite. Still, she discreetly checked her phone every few minutes between scanning every uniformed officer in hopes of recognizing a lithe brunette silhouette.

The lights dimmed twice and Maura set out to find her designated seat. Pleased to see she was seated near several people she knew, she settled in and immediately was included in their interesting discussion regarding proper crime scene training for rookie officers. Drink orders were placed and the crowd was lively and spirited. If Jane were here, it would have been perfect.

She didn't miss the sympathetic glances as they noticed to Jane's vacant seat, the stark white placard with bold black calligraphy making out the tall detective's name left Maura with a hollow feeling inside.

Finally, one uniformed officer said what the rest of the guests seated at the table wanted to ask.

"Did Rizzoli ditch us or did she catch a case?" His voice was kind, almost apologetic. His wife, an attractive young blonde, gazed compassionately at Maura.

"He always gets called out at the worst time," the blonde piped up, "I know how you feel."

"She's interrogating a murder suspect," Maura answered with a small smile, "I'm hoping she will arrive soon; although I'm sure she will do her best to miss the event entirely to avoid wearing her uniform."

"Uh, yeah, she's always been reluctant to wear it," he chuckled fondly. "She was the most miserable beat cop I've ever seen. I used to joke with her she only wanted to be promoted to detective because of the clothes."

Maura smiled fondly, knowing he was probably right.

"It's nice to see her, uh, happy," the officer continued. Maura noticed he ignored a pointed look from his wife as he continued, "I knew you guys were gonna eventually be an item, we all did. We're really glad it finally happened. She's been a hell of a lot easier to deal with these past few months."

"My husband, the hopeless romantic," his wife rolled her eyes as the guests at the table laughed, including Maura.

The table was full, save for Jane and Vince's empty seats and the rest of the couples seated offered condolences for Jane's nonappearance. There was one other female officer at the table, her husband's arm casually draped across her shoulders. Sighing quietly, Maura tried to focus on anything other than her disappointment at Jane's continued absence. It was not surprising everyone had assumed they were here '_together'_, although they had only officially been dating since December, most of their work colleagues had assumed they were a couple for much longer than these past few months. Even Jane's family was apathetic when she had announced the change in their relationship status; in fact, Frankie had requested the bread to be passed while Jane was nervously trying to tell them Maura was now her girlfriend. Tommy mentioned he thought they had made it official a year ago, Angela said to let her know when she could start wedding planning, and TJ had thrown his plate of mashed peas onto Maura's white carpeting. All in all, it was a pretty normal Rizzoli family dinner night.

The present conversation quickly shifted to another subject, one Maura didn't have a strong opinion about, so she allowed herself to relax and sip the delightful white wine that had been placed in front of her.

Thinking back to this same Gala last year, Maura remembered exactly how Jane looked in her dress uniform; her hair in a flattering French braid and small stud earrings in her petite ears. Her makeup was tasteful and not overdone; and the only other jewelry she wore was the handsome watch Maura had given her for Christmas a few months earlier. Jane had spent most of the evening leaning back in her seat, arm slung across the back of Maura's chair as she easily fielded questions about Casey's absence with a dismissive shake of her head. She and Vince lobbed thinly-veiled insults at each other as they half-heartedly listened to the speeches from the politicians garnering support for the next election.

Maura allowed her thoughts to wander further, remembering more details about last year's Gala.

_Jane's hand frequently brushed the back of her shoulder, igniting a surprising tickle in Maura's chest. Glancing at the tall detective, she found her engaged in the table's conversation. A quick glance her way and a sly wink from dark eyes made the tickle turn into a slow burn that ignited Maura's insides._

_Once the Gala was finished, they spent the rest of the evening on Maura's sofa, Jane looking delectable in her half-unbuttoned uniform and tousled hair. She snapped the now-empty rubber band that had been holding back her full mane of hair around her wrist as she laughed about the terrible dancing and copious amounts of alcohol their co-workers had consumed. _

_Maura's mouth practically watered as she watched the detective's strong and nimble fingers snap the band over and over, a sensual rhythm that she could still recall. Head thrown back with wild black ringlets cascading over the cushion, she was practically feline; utterly supine and relaxed. Maura's fingers itched to feel the rough fabric of her uniform before sliding over polished buttons that would effortlessly come undone with just the slightest pressure. _

_What she would give to slowly reveal the olive skin of the tall detective inch by delicious inch as she peeled the uniform down over toned shoulders and arms. Jane would have on a simple and practical brassiere; most likely black, or perhaps one of those dreadful white cotton ones she purchased at Walmart. Regardless, she would look divine; a beautiful contrast of feminine curves and stoic masculinity that just begged to be worshipped. _

The event began and Maura reluctantly turned her attention away from admiration of her now-lover to the stage. A roar from the crowd signaled the mayor taking the stage and they all rose, applauding Boston's newest elected official.

"You look beautiful," a husky voice husked in her ear and the blonde M.E. startled in surprise. Turning, she regarded the most beautiful pair of warm obsidian eyes she had ever seen.

"You're here!" Her exclamation of joy was easily heard above the applauding crowd, but she didn't care. Jane was here, clutching her arm and smiling at her.

It was clear the tall detective had rushed here; dress uniform askew, hair loose and tousled, but Maura still thought she looked beautiful. All rational thought was lost as the uniformed woman leaned down to greet her properly, gracing her with a gentle kiss.

"Hi," Jane whispered into her mouth before nipping her bottom lip. Maura felt herself swoon, gratefully leaning into the detective's strong embrace. She was shocked at Jane's public display of affection, but it was not unwelcome. The friendly faces at the table were free of hostility, and Maura felt the detective relax at her side in apparent relief.

"Hi yourself; I'm so glad you made it," Maura murmured as they all took their seats.

"Jane! You got the guy?" The friendly detective and his wife greeted Jane jovially as did the rest of the table.

"I did," she responded easily, looking immediately comfortable. Her arm slung around the back of Maura's chair, eerily similar to her position last year, the detective smiled fondly at her date. "I made sure he squeaked out his confession in a timely manner knowing Maura was here alone with you bums."

"Surely the insurmountable evidence you had indicating he was more than likely the one who had committed the murder combined with your superior interrogation skills encouraged him to confess, Jane," the M.E. stated with a smile.

"That too," the detective agreed with a smile.

Her spirits lifted considerably, Maura relaxed back against Jane's arm as the brunette chatted easily with their colleagues. She couldn't help but notice how often Jane checked in with her; meeting her gaze during a conversation, offering her a wink or a soft smile, touching her shoulder, and resting her free hand casually on the M.E's thigh. It made her feel so secure; so wanted. It was a truly addictive feeling.

The wine flowed, dinner served, and spirits high. Maura and Jane were in perfect sync, as the tall detective tugged on the buttoned up collar of her uniform in aggravation, her petite date took possession of the fidgeting hands, toying with the long fingers. As Jane pushed her wine away, finding it too fruity for her taste, Maura pushed her glass of water toward the detective as a trade. They finished each other's sentences, elaborated on each other's stories, traded gentle touches and lingering looks.

"You ladies make such a great couple," one of the wives said dreamily. Elbowing her husband, he tore his eyes away from the shapely young waitress refilling water glasses and cleared his throat self-consciously. "Sometimes I think it would be easier to be a lesbian, double the clothes and half the aggravation of having your other half think with what's in his pants" she sighed, causing the rest of the table to erupt in laughter.

"Is it easier, Maur?" The low voice rumbled in the petite woman's ear, causing goose pimples to form on her exposed forearms.

"I'm not sure exactly what you are referencing," she responded primly. The detective didn't miss the hitch of her date's breath or the quick purse of ruby lips. Grinning merrily, the brunette tried again.

"Easier to be with a woman?" She leaned in closer to continue the next part of their conversation in private. "Sharing clothes and not being consumed by sex all the time?"

"I do not know how to appropriately answer your question, detective, as I cannot speak for all lesbians," the honey blonde responded with a smile. "However, if you're asking me personally, I find it easy to be with you. Although I am regularly distracted by your physical presence at times," she turned to murmur into her lover's ear.

"Well, I can't help but think with what's in my pants when I'm around you," Jane continued, her breath tickling Maura's neck delightfully. "Especially when you look this amazing. As soon as I got your text and I saw you in this dress, I could only think of one thing."

"I doubt the validity of that statement." Ruby lips parted to reveal perfect white teeth. "You would never jeopardize the integrity of an interrogation by allowing yourself to be distracted."

"Distracted? No," Jane chuckled as her hand crept dangerously up Maura's thigh, "encouraged to do my job as quickly as possible, yes."

"Jane," the honey blonde's voice chided her lover as she covered the wandering hand with her own, "please behave."

A pout graced the detective's lips briefly as her fingers twitched over the soft material of the M.E's dress. Regretfully pulling away from the smaller woman, she straightened in her seat and rejoined one of the many conversations at the table.

Maura wasn't able to tear her focus away as easily; her attentive eyes watched Jane's hands twist her napkin, twirl her fork, and pull at the buttons near her throat. The honey blonde felt her face flush as she pictured those same restless hands twisting in her hair, twirling through her wetness, and pulling at her clothes eagerly.

Their eyes met, and Maura realized her detective knew exactly what she was thinking about. A languid smile and quick quirk of dark eyebrows were almost her undoing. Lazily, Jane returned her hand to Maura's thigh, giving it a teasing squeeze.

Maura often felt she would never become tired of admiring Jane, much like her favorite works at the MFA, she could always find some small detail to appreciate at any given time. Watching the other people seated at the table, Maura quickly realized she wasn't the only one to obviously ogle the tall brunette. To say the tall detective was beautiful was a drastic understatement; her feminine masculinity resonated to all those around her, making her universally attractive.

Suddenly possessive of the beautiful woman seated next to her, Maura scooted closer to her before leaning in and kissed her on the cheek. Leaving the conversation, Jane turned, her dark eyes dancing merrily.

"What was that for?"

"I love you," Maura responded truthfully, her eyes searching those of the taller woman. She found exactly what she was looking for in the dark depths and couldn't help but grin hopelessly.

"Disgustingly sweet," one of the women commented as she jabbed at her husband's sleeve with her fork, "remember when we were that sweet?"

"No," he deadpanned; taking an aggressive bite of his roll. The table erupted in laughter.

The rest of the evening passed quickly, despite Jane's aggravation at her uniform. As they said goodbyes to their tablemates and a few other acquaintances, Jane helped Maura into her coat before escorting her to the valet station.

"Meet you at home?" Her voice was low; the timbre unmistakable.

"Yes," the blonde's voice replied, barely above a whisper. Jane leaned in for a quick kiss before jogging across the street. Maura sighed; knowing the detective wouldn't have wanted to pay for parking and had chosen to leave her car on some terribly-lit side street instead.

Still, the tall brunette's superior knowledge of the city streets and all possible shortcuts allowed her to arrive home several minutes before the diminutive blonde. Maura arrived to Jane's car parked neatly in the driveway. Smiling, she parked carefully in the empty space and let herself into the house, saying hello to an excited Jo Friday before locking the door behind her and turning off the porch light. She stepped easily out of her heels, picking them up and wiping them down with the cloth that hung on the inside of the closet specifically for that purpose before stowing them away with her coat. Her clutch still on her arm, she turned off all of the other lights downstairs before making her way to the bedroom. The little terrier danced ahead of her happily, eager to return to her taller mistress.

The scene she was greeted warmed her heart and she smiled in reflex. Jane, still clad in her dress uniform, lit by candlelight as she removed her watch and earrings with Jo Friday circling her heels.

"Hi," the blonde breathed in the sight, wanting nothing in her life to ever change. It was amazing what a difference a year could make. She only could dream of this scene greeting her after last year's Gala.

"Hey," the low voice caused her to shiver delightfully. "That wasn't that bad, right?"

"Not at all," the blonde responded easily, "I'm so happy you were able to attend."

Jane rolled her eyes, "Maur, you have no idea. I always dread those things, but all I wanted to do was show up tonight with you on my arm. I'm just so damn proud someone like you would be with me." She moved in closer to take the blonde in her arms, allowing the smaller woman to bury her face against the stiff uniform. Grateful for the needed moment to gather her composure, the blonde tightened the embrace.

Finally they broke apart, the smaller woman's eyes glittering with tears. She fingered the two loose buttons on the smaller woman's unbuttoned collar, knowing it had taken a great deal of restraint for the detective not to change the minute she had arrived home.

"I'm so lucky," she breathed as she met the darkened eyes of the detective. "Everyone tonight there wanted you; I could see it so clearly. You're incredible. You have this amazing aura; both feminine and masculine and it appeals to a wide array of people."

"Ha, I told you I looked like a man in this thing," the detective chuckled. "Besides, you're the good looking one in this relationship."

Maura pushed herself back from the detective's arms, her palms flat on the brunette's collarbone. "Jane, you are the most attractive person I have ever seen. Your uniform doesn't make you look anything like a man; it heightens your feminine qualities beautifully yet gives you a powerful and commanding appearance which, in turn…" she was quickly interrupted by a lingering kiss.

"Shhh, stop talking," the brunette murmured against her. "I can think of far better things for your lips to do." She pulled her back in for an ardent kiss, sighing happily when their tongues met at once. After a few minutes, Jane couldn't wait any longer. Turning the smaller woman around gently, Jane clumsily unzipped the dark purple gown and held it steady for the blonde to step out of. Courteously, she laid it carefully over the back of the sitting chair, earning her a winning smile from the blonde.

The blonde shivered in the cool room, left only in her black camisole. Jane's eyes roamed over the smaller woman's exposed body eagerly, her hands reaching out to stroke and caress every inch. Her passion igniting, the brunette pulled the blonde into her arms once more, one hand reaching up to tug a loose curl of hair as their mouths crashed together.

Smiling against her mouth, the smaller woman deepened the kiss as she deftly unbuttoned the detective's jacket and peeled it down the brunette's muscular shoulders. Taking a second to appreciate the image of the tall detective, she loved how her tight white t-shirt tucked into the thick belt of the uniform pants, accentuating the brunette's trim abdominals. As Maura returned her lips to the particularly sensitive skin under the detective's jaw she trailed her hands down to unfasten her belt. The blonde M.E's eyes widened almost comically as she trailed her hand across the zipper of the detective's uniform pants, feeling an unfamiliar bulge where there was normally none. "Jane?" She pulled back to meet her lover's eyes, finding them a deadly dark shade of black.

The brunette leaned down, nipping her full lips roughly. "I figured if I was already in my manly uniform I might as well play the part. I figured you wouldn't mind," she returned her mouth to bite the blonde's neck gently.

"Of course not," the smaller woman murmured. "But Jane, I need to explain something to you first," she struggled to free herself from the detective's embrace, not missing the rolling eyes and dramatic sigh.

"No single human being is completely feminine or masculine. It's not possible. In fact, the Yale Law Journal just had a fascinating feature on this very topic. The lines of gender and sexuality are blurred; made increasingly more complicated by our preconceived notions of what are considered feminine behaviors, actions, and preferences versus those deliberated as masculine. Wearing a dildo doesn't make you masculine; no more than a man wearing a pink shirt would be considered feminine. Myself, I don't feel like I'm having sex with a man or am being penetrated by a penis when you have a dildo, I feel as if I'm being penetrated by you; my beautiful girlfriend."

Taking a breath, the blonde continued, "Now, I will be honest that when you wear your uniform, it is a huge turn on for me. I also become sexually aroused when thinking of you wearing a dildo; but it has nothing to do with perceiving you as masculine. It turns me on because you are confident and powerful, and I am aroused at the thought of submitting completely to you and knowing how good the penetration will feel."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," the detective had reached her limit and her patience was up, "Maur, thank you for the very informative explanation. I appreciate it, I really do. But believe me, I'm a simple woman. I like to make you feel good. I really like to fuck you. I really really like to fuck you while wearing this fake dick because it makes you feel really really good. That's the only reason I need to wear it. Okay?"

Speechless, the blonde nodded. Scooting back on the bed, her eyes traced hungrily over the brunette's muscular form. Jane's dark hair hung in waves over her tanned arms and her eyes burned obsidian as they eagerly canvased the blonde's candlelit flesh.

The susurrus sound of the brunette's zipper being lowered caused the smaller woman to shudder involuntarily. She watched in fascination as the brunette deftly pulled the dildo through the opened zipper and advanced on her, crawling toward her on the bed like an overzealous panther.

"Oh my," she murmured; completely overcome with arousal as Jane finally reached for her, pulling at her hips until she was fully underneath the brunette as their lips met once more.

It felt like an eternity, but she knew it was only a few languid seconds before she felt the brunette's fingers deftly push her silk thong to the side and slide through her wetness. Sighing in approval, Maura placed her palm against the detective's strong jaw as their eyes met. It was as if time stopped as they gazed at once another, no words needed.

Maura felt as if her heart would burst as she canted her hips to meet the brunette's, feeling the tip of the dildo hovering tantalizing at her entrance. Bracing herself on her forearm, Jane gripped the dildo confidently with her free hand and slid it easily into the smaller woman with one smooth thrust.

The blonde's head flung back, her golden hair across the pillow like a sunburst. Jane only paused briefly to appreciate the beauty of her candlelit lover before retreating from her velvety depths. She chuckled at the smaller woman's pout, leaning down to kiss it away before gliding back into her. The strangled groan as she repeated this push pull motion once more told her the blonde was enjoying herself immensely.

"It's worth it for me to pull out from you, right?" The brunette's voice was breathless from her ministrations as she receded slowly, earning a frustrated protest from her lover. "Because coming back feels so damn good," she grunted as she thrust back into the smaller woman, harder this time.

"Ye…yes," Maura groaned and Jane swore she could feel the muscles clenched around the dildo, "you feel so good, please..." the blonde quivered underneath her delightfully.

"Please what?" Jane asked as she pulled out quickly, making sure the tip of the dildo stroked the blonde's clit and lingered there.

"Oh God, please just keep going," Maura cried as she tore at Jane's thin shirt, desperate to feel her skin.

Narrow hips jumped and Jane moved both hands to the blonde's waist, holding her firmly in place as she entered her fully. Maura hummed in approval as she felt the full weight of her lover anchoring her securely. Lips met and tongues dueled as the brunette pulled out once again, hovering at her entrance.

Maura almost screamed in frustration, her eyes snapping open to meet her lover's. "Jane, please don't tease me." Her hips wriggled frantically, searching for the brunette's appendage. Keeping herself tilted away from the blonde, the taller woman grinned evilly. Leaning down, she pushed the thin silk out of her way in order to find a taut nipple. Taking it in her mouth, she rolled it between her teeth before flicking the tip with her tongue.

The blonde tugged at her hair, politely at first and then more demanding. Chuckling, she released the smaller woman's nipple with an audible pop before thrusting aggressively back into her.

"Jane," her name was said like a mantra and the brunette knew she couldn't deny her lover any longer. Gathering the smaller woman into her arms, she latched onto her neck as her thrusts picked up speed and force.

"Oh God, when you take me like this it's the most incredible thing I've ever felt." The blonde worked her hands under Jane's shirt, clawing at her bare back. Jane nipped and bit at the smaller woman's neck, knowing how crazy it drove her. Not surprisingly, Maura was a talker, and Jane fully enjoyed hearing whatever spewed from the blonde's mouth while in the throes of passion.

The smaller end of the dildo fit perfectly inside the brunette and rubbed her in all of the right places. She bit the inside of her cheek as she felt her climax build, determined to push her lover over the edge first.

The blonde liked to be taken fast and hard; with no hesitation. The more confident and aggressive Jane was, the more she liked it. Once her legs wrapped around Jane's narrow hips, the brunette knew it was her cue to drive into the smaller woman as violently as possible; nothing held back.

She pushed in and out, hitting the blonde's clit each time on the up and downstroke. Trembling underneath her, Jane hummed in approval as she felt the blonde adjust her position, binding her legs around the brunette's back and opening herself up for the brunette to thrust into her even deeper.

"Jane," she breathed, "please."

Taking her cue, the detective roared as she sunk into her fully. Biting down savagely onto the blonde's neck, the brunette's hips drove relentlessly into those of her lover, thrusting into her with all she had. Over and over she pushed, feeling the blonde come beautifully undone underneath her.

"Jane, I love you. Jane, I fucking love you. Don't stop, please don't ever stop fucking me," the blonde chants grew louder and were joined by groans, moans, and screams of delight as the brunette's ministrations intensified.

"Fuck," the detective ground out as her climax came forcefully, causing her to shudder into her lover. The blonde screamed once more before collapsing back into the soft mattress, pulling the brunette fully down onto her, taking all of her weight.

Jane felt her muscles contracting around the dildo as she struggled to catch her breath. Pushing into Maura gently she felt the blonde tighten around her as she slowly started a new rhythm.

"Wha, Jane, what are you doing?" Maura was beautifully breathless, her hair stuck to her face.

"Shhhh," the brunette softly nipped at her kiss-bruised lips, "I don't wanna be done."

This time, it was soft and steady as the two women worked together, hips pushing and pulling, panting declarations of love, tender kisses, and indulgent caresses. The soft light from the candles highlighted the sheen of perspiration that covered their bodies as they rocked together in unison.

"Maur, oh baby you feel good," Jane rocked her hips shallowly, searching for the spot inside the blonde that always coaxed the greatest climax from the smaller woman. Finding it, she could practically feel the blonde constrict against the dildo, her muscles contracting violently.

Needing to see her eyes, Jane pulled back enough to meet Maura's gaze; finding the smaller woman's eyes voluminous and wet with unshed tears.

"I love you," the blonde said so sweetly it was as if the detective's heart would burst. Completely connected, they continued to keep their gaze locked as the lazy rhythm of the detective's hips soon took them both over the edge once more. Although completely different than the first, their mutual second orgasm was no less powerful.

The continued to stay joined, trading kisses, talking, laughing, and whispering promises, until their exhaustion and the lateness of the evening made itself known.

Candles were blown out, clothes discarded, and the house fell silent as the two lovers settled into bed, wrapped securely in each other's embrace.

Holding the smaller woman from behind, Jane planted a soft kiss to her fragrant hair.

"It's terrifying how much I love you," her low voice admitted. "Promise me we will stay like this forever. I can't stand the thought of life without you."

It was a well-documented fact that Maura was unable to lie. She was not able to foresee the future, and could not make any promise of forever, it just wasn't realistic. Still, an overwhelming feeling of contentment and conviction about their relationship had settled in her chest, burning her pleasantly.

"I can't imagine my life without you," she murmured to the brunette, placing a gentle kiss to the palm draped across her. "I can tell you with absolute certainty that I will never feel about anyone else what I feel for you. If I could make it so, I would stay like this with you forever."

"Wow, absolute certainty," the brunette responded drowsily, "that's pretty good considering you still won't call what is clearly a bloodstain anything other than a reddish brown stain with absolute certainty."

The blonde chuckled, safe in the arms of her love. "Get some rest, I love you."

"Love you Maur," the detective mumbled as sleep overtook her.

Closing her eyes, the blonde cherished the gentle sounds of the detective's breathing. It was here, in the quiet moments between sleep and awake, that anything seemed possible; even a concept as absurd as eternity.


End file.
